Therapy Sessions
by SpiritOfAdventure
Summary: The returning seventh years are required to attend therapy together. They begin to open up to each other, and tentative inter-house friendships form.
1. Return to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I am not making any money off of this.

**Background for story**: I follow everything that happened in DH except the epilogue. I borrow some info from J.K. about what happened to people after, what they did with their lives, who they end up with, etc., but ignore other things. Like the fact that Hagrid doesn't marry Madame Maxime. What is that? That probably won't even come up in the story. So just so you know, if it never gets mentioned, Hagrid marries Madame Maxime.

**Author's Note**: This story is going to be written very oddly. First and foremost, it is a writing in progress, although I do have the entire thing outlined (and no matter what, no matter how long it takes me between updates, I promise NOT TO ABANDON IT).

Second, it is a story about regular, everyday life. There will be conflict, of course, between the characters, but unless I have a change of heart between now and the ending, I do not expect there to be any huge climactic (literal) battle between good and evil. If you are looking for that, you will not find it here (probably).

Third, I planned at first on writing this as a one-shot. That's because I'm really horrible at writing out full-fledged stories. I get my ideas for stories in these flashes of scenes, and I try and figure out how I'm going to flesh it out, but I get so excited about getting to the good parts I brush over the other stuff. But if you're writing a full-fledged story, the other stuff is important. It's not going to be a one-shot, though, because if it was, it would be really, reaaaalllllyyy long. And that's pretty annoying to read.

Fourth, I am going to write this like I get my ideas for stories. In flashes. And I'm going to have different points of view. Of all different characters (but not a crazy amount. At least three. No more than…five, let's say). But it's not going to be split up evenly. And some chapters will be shorter than others to make those different points of view understandable. And I am going to skip periods of time between chapters. So…things might get a little weird. It's not going to read like your typical novel, let's say.

Think you can handle that?

Good. If you've made it this far, I have faith in you. Hope you enjoy.

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><p>Hermione's eyes filled with tears as the train left the station, waving out the window at Ron and Harry's increasingly smaller faces. Then the train turned the corner and they were out of sight, and she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to keep the tears from falling. She was being stupid. She should be excited! She was going back to school! Going back to Hogwarts, finally, which had been painstakingly restored during the summer months and was now fit for students to once again grace its halls.<p>

But Ron and Harry wouldn't be with her, and it was the strangest and saddest feeling in the world. Kingsley, who had been officially given the title of Minister of Magic three weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, had made an exception to the rules governing acceptance into the Auror Training Progam. If you fought in the battle, you would be granted automatic acceptance into the program instead of needing to return to school and earning the five required N.E.W.T.s.

Ron and Harry of course immediately took advantage of this and had been accepted into the program at the beginning of June. Many other students Hermione knew did the same thing, including Dean, Seamus, and Padma Patil. But she personally had no desire to become an Auror. As she had once told Ron during fifth year, she wanted to do something which would allow her to take S.P.E.W. further, and she was beginning to form an idea as to how that could be done. As such, she would need to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year and take her N.E.W.T.s. But the thought of returning to school without her two best friends was…overwhelming, to say the least.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

She realized she was still standing at the window, staring blankly out of it. She turned to Ginny, now one of the few close friends she would have at Hogwarts, and smiled.

"Yes, I'm fine. I've got to go to the Prefects Compartment and give orders. I'll catch you up later, okay?"

Ginny nodded, although still looked a bit worried, and Hermione made her way to the front of the train.

When she entered the compartment, she found a friendly and welcome face waiting for her. "Neville!" she exclaimed, and ran up to embrace him. He grinned back at her happily, and she stepped back to study his face.

She hated how war changed people. Even though their side had won, they had suffered many losses, and you could always see it in people's eyes. People would smile at you, and they might be truly happy, but you could see a slight deadness in their eyes that was frightening. You could tell, if a person had that look, that they had seen terrible things. Neville's eyes had that look.

"Hermione! It's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Good," she replied. "Enjoying watching Ron and Harry work harder than me for once in their lives."

He laughed. "Well, that'll be changing soon, won't it? N.E.W.T.s will probably have us working just as hard as them, even if they are in Auror training!"

She couldn't help but marvel at the joking manner with which he mentioned N.E.W.T.s. Two years ago, the mention of any kind of test would have had Neville quaking in his boots, but now he was talking about the most important test he would ever take and making jokes about it! Despite the hardships he had had to endure during his previous year at Hogwarts, they had definitely strengthened him for the better.

"Unfortunately, you're probably right. By the way, sorry for asking, Neville, but…what are you doing in here?"

"Oh! I was made Head Boy." His smile lit up his entire face.

Hermione was somewhat taken aback. After all, Neville hadn't even been a Prefect! But she supposed it wasn't all that unbelievable. Considering the return Prefects Professor McGonagall would have had to choose from, Neville was definitely the best candidate. "Really? That's amazing! Congratulations! Er…Where's your badge?"

He rolled his eyes at himself. "Where else? Lost it, of course. McGonagall's giving me a new one when we get to school. My Gran's really proud of me though, didn't even get mad that I'd lost it!"

Hermione smiled. "Some things never change." And she was glad for it.

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><p>McGonagall rose, and the chatting between students died away. Hermione put down her fork slowly. She had barely eaten anything all dinner.<p>

"Before I send you off, I have one more announcement to make. We have one more addition to our staff this year, although she is not a Professor. Her name is Ms. Oblenio, and she is a magical therapist."

A middle-aged woman in dark blue robes rose, smiling and waving to the students. There was a smattering of confused applause.

"For those of you who do not know what a therapist is, it is someone who helps people by talking with them about their problems or any trauma they may have gone through."

A few students laughed. Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. This was strange. She had never thought about it before, but she had never heard of anyone in the magical world having any mental problems that were not inflicted by magic. If a person got depressed, they simply took a potion. She had never heard of a magical therapist before, because other problems like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder seemed only to occur in muggles, so there was no need. She wondered why this woman had gone down that path. She must have some sort of background in muggle studies, otherwise she never would have heard of such a thing. She should try and stop by the library tomorrow and see what she could find.

"Students who participated in, or had family members that participated in, the Battle of Hogwarts will be required to attend therapy sessions twice a month. These will take place in the evenings and will be in Ms. Oblenio's office on the second floor. Your Heads of House will give you your first assigned meeting times. If you have any questions, please direct them at your Head of House. Now, it is time for bed. First years, follow the Prefects of your House. They will direct you to your common room."

Hermione looked over at Ginny, her eyebrows raised. Ginny looked like she had just swallowed something sour.

"_Therapy _sessions?" Ginny spat out the word as if it had offended her.

"Yes," she murmered, "it does seem a bit…unusual, doesn't it? But I suppose it's to help everyone…"

"I don't need help. And neither do you. None of us do! I can't believe this. We all fight in the war just as hard as they did, and now they're just going back to treating us like children? Making us talk about our feelings? I don't want to talk about my feelings!"

Hermione looked sadly at her friend. She would never say it, at least not while Ginny was angry, but she had to disagree. She felt that Ginny needed help _more_ than others. Ginny was one of the strongest people she knew, but the only person who had taken Fred's death harder than her was George. And Ginny definitely wasn't talking about it, at least not to her. And probably not to Harry either. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Harry wasn't the _best_person to go to if you wanted to talk about your feelings. And knowing Ginny, she probably wasn't even trying since he was so busy with Auror training. She wouldn't want to burden him, or something silly.

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

Ginny snorted.

"Well, I've got to go help the first years. Neville probably forgot the password and they'll all be stuck outside…"

She got heavily to her feet and started making her way through the crowd until she heard someone familiar calling her name.

"Hermione!"

She turned around and felt her heart lift. "Hagrid!"

He enveloped her in a rib-crushing hug. "Sorry I haven't been 'round ter see you recently, but I've been busy here fixin' up the castle. How're you holdin' up?"

"Well, but I'm surprised by these mandatory therapy sessions we'll have to be attending! Whose idea was it?"

"Dumbledor's, o'course! Who else do you think woulda come up with a ruddy muggle way to help out you lot?"

Hermione was momentarily confused, then remembered Dumbledore's portrait which hung in the Headmistress' office. She wondered if there would ever be another Hogwarts Head which did not seek his advice. Of course, he and Professor McGonagall had been particularly close, and as able as Professor McGonagall was, relating to students wasn't exactly her forte. She grinned up at Hagrid.

"Of course."

"Fancy comin' 'round my place this Friday afternoon for a cuppa? You could bring Ginny and Neville as well."

"That sounds lovely."

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><p>Hermione lay in bed, staring up at the canopy. She could hear the sounds of Parvati and Lavender's breathing in the quiet darkness, and felt another sharp pain of sadness when she thought of what tomorrow morning would bring. Although she had become friendlier with Parvati and Lavender after the war (and they had become slightly less silly), they still weren't close. And even though she and Ginny confided in each other, Ginny still had her own friends from her year. Although she probably didn't feel as lonely as Neville. He was in his dormitory by himself!<p>

In fact, the number of seventh years who had returned was very small. Herself, Parvati, Lavender, and Neville from Gryffindor, which had the most. Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. And Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini from Slytherin.

The fact that the last three had returned to Hogwarts had caused quite an uproar, at least at the Gryffindor table. Ginny had threatened on more than one occasion to go punch Malfoy in the face, and Hermione had to admit, she had restrained her half-heartedly. She had not had any contact with him since she had testified against his father and on his behalf in front of the Wizengamot in mid-June.

She had been relating the details of her, Ron, and Harry's time at Malfoy Manor, of how Lucius had tried to have Draco identify them but he had not. Whether it was because he honestly did not know or he was reluctant to say, she had not tried to communicate. Harry, strangely, seemed to think that despite their haggard appearances, Draco had just not wanted to admit who they were. Hermione hoped he was right, of course, because it made Malfoy seem slightly less detestable, but the tight-lipped "thank you" he had given to her and Harry after the trial hardly seemed adequate (Ron had refused to testify). That was the third time they had saved his life, after all, including the two times during the battle. But Harry, who had matured so much it almost made her sad (sad that he had been forced to grow up so quickly, they all had been forced to grow up so quickly), had shook his hand, said "you're welcome", and walked away.

Hermione usually tried to be the bigger person. But it was so hard with Malfoy. After everything that had been done and said between them for seven years, a thank you for not sending him to prison wasn't much of an effort on his part. But she supposed it was a start. They had all been told by Professor McGonagall that they were going to have to learn to forgive each other and move forward. And it was her duty as Head Girl to set an example.

She sighed. She really needed to get to sleep. Classes started tomorrow, and she had a feeling it was going to be a long day without Ron and Harry beside her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: So, interested?


	2. Session One: Hermione

**Author's note**: Wow! I was stunned with the amount of reviews I received so quickly upon posting the first chapter. Thanks everyone! As a token of my gratitude, I am posting the next one. But don't get used to it…I'm hoping to get into the routine of a chapter a week.

Also, for the Draco lovers: he doesn't make much of an appearance in this chapter, but he will soon!

Second Author's Note: Sorry if you get a chapter update, everyone, but I was rereading through this chapter and found some consistency errors that I wanted to correct immediately.

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><p>She hesitated outside of Ms. Oblenio's office, then knocked lightly two times.<p>

"Come in," said a warm voice.

Hermione took a deep breath, then walked into the room.

It was unlike any other professor's office she had ever been in. Professor McGonagall's, before she had been Headmistress, was simple, functional, but also had a refined elegance. Snape's had always been dark and gloomy, and Umbridge's was decorated foully with frills and kittens and lace. But they had all shared one thing in common: a desk, with a hard backed chair or two in front of it.

In direct contrast to this, Ms. Oblenio's office looked more like one of the House common rooms than an office. And it was large, larger than any office she had ever seen for a Professor at Hogwarts. There were two couches, two loveseats, and three big, overstuffed armchairs. They were arranged in a circle around the room, with a few tables in between. Everything was earth tones, either a light tan, rich brown, or sea foam green. Calming. Neutral. Non-house colors.

Two of the armchairs were on either side of a stone fireplace, and Ms. Oblenio was sitting in one of them. She rose when Hermione entered, smiling and holding out her hand.

"Miss Granger! Sophie Oblenio. It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, sit down," she said, gesturing to the armchair on the other side of the fireplace.

Hermione sank slowly into the armchair, looking around the "office" as she did so. There were a few pictures scattered here and there, although the walls were mostly taken up by bookcases, which were filled to the very top. Her hands twitched involuntarily, wanting to be able to examine their titles. She clasped her hands together instead and finally looked at Ms. Oblenio.

She was quite attractive, with soft brown hair swept away from her face. Her eyes were a dark chocolate color, with tiny crow's feet in the corners. The only other lines on her face were light laugh lines. She was pale, but in a pretty, porcelain-skinned kind of way.

"Before we begin, I would like to explain these sessions to you. We will be meeting once a month on an individual basis, and once a month as a group with your fellow seventh years. I am here to help you with any problems you may be experiencing, whether it be with adjusting back to life at Hogwarts or merely coping with your workload. I am also here to help you manage your feelings about the war and any losses you may have dealt with."

Hermione indicated that she understood.

"I want you to know that this room is a judgement-free space. Also, anything you say to me in our individual sessions is strictly confidential. I will never repeat it to anyone at anytime."

Hermione nodded. Her curiosity was rekindled at how similar this was to muggle therapy. She hadn't had time to go the library for anything that wasn't related to homework, but she really wanted to see if this woman had ever published anything.

"So, how has your first week back at school been?"

"It was…fine."

Ms. Oblenio smiled. "Just fine?"

Hermione inwardly reprimanded herself. She was Head Girl! She needed to be willing to talk openly with this woman, to set an example.

"A little lonely, I guess. Ro-well, my two best friends didn't come back to Hogwarts."

Ms. Oblenio crossed her legs, but didn't stop smiling. Hermione would have found that rather annoying with most people, but Ms. Oblenio's smile was obviously genuine and somehow helped her to relax. Make her more at ease.

"Miss Granger, do you mind if I call you Hermione?"

"Of course not."

"Well, Hermione, I won't try and pretend I don't know who you are, although of course all the professors gave me some background information on all of the students I'm seeing. I know that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are both participating in Auror training, and that you three have been quite inseparable since you became friends. I'm sure you'll be missing them greatly this year."

"What kind of information?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What kind of background information do the Professors give you on the students who will be seeing you?"

"Oh, just some basic information. What houses you belong to, what classes you're taking, if you have any siblings."

"And possibly which family members or close friends died in the war?"

Ms. Oblenio smiled at Hermione again.

"I've also heard, of course, that you're very intelligent."

Hermione didn't feel complimented, although she knew that Ms. Oblenio meant it as one.

"Who does it say for me?"

Ms. Oblenio cocked her head and studied her for a brief moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." And that was the truth. She was interested to know who had been designated as close enough to have affected her significantly, since she didn't lose any relatives.

Ms. Oblenio studied her quietly, then grabbed a file Hermione hadn't noticed from the table beside her. She opened it and scanned down the page.

"Is there anyone in particular you want to talk about?"

"No," she said, a little fiercely. Ms. Oblenio closed the file and placed it gently back on the table.

"I'm here to help you, you know. War is hard on everyone, but especially the young. It is unfair for you and your classmates that you all had to experience what you did. You especially, along with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, had to deal with more than most fully grown witches and wizards ever do."

"Everyone had a battle to fight, in their own way," she replied softly.

Ms. Oblenio smiled at her again. "That is certainly true."

There was a silence, and although it was rather longer than most silences that occur in normal conversation, it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Hermione-"

"Ms. Oblenio, may I be frank?" she asked, cutting her off.

"I'd like nothing more. And please, call me Sophie. Everyone in my office is viewed as an equal."

"Alright then. Sophie, I'll be honest. I…don't feel…_comfortable_ discussing such personal matters with someone I barely know. Even if it is why you're here. Perhaps in a few more sessions I wouldn't mind so much, but right now…"

"Of course. Do you mind if I ask if you have talked about it with anyone else?"

"I don't mind that you ask, and…no, I haven't really discussed it with anyone else."

Sophie smiled.

"_Ron, don't you want to-"_

"_No Hermione, I don't."_

_She sucked in her breath at his harsh tone. Her eyes started to well with tears, and she blinked them back furiously. He turned to look at her, and his face softened. He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle kiss._

"'_Mione, I'm sorry, but…let's-let's just go down to dinner."_

"Well, what would you feel comfortable talking with me about?"

Hermione snapped back to the present and pondered the question. "School," she said definitively. "And…well, just school, right now."

"Alright then, school it is," Sophie said cheerily. She grabbed Hermione's file again and flipped it open. "I see you are taking…Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy." She paused. "That's quite a workload for N.E.W.T. year!"

"It is, I suppose, but I love it. And I want to be prepared to do anything I want after school."

"Do you have an idea of what that might be?"

She hesitated. "Not _entirely_, but I have a general idea."

"What is it?"

"Well...I started an organization in my fourth year. S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Sounds intriguing! What's its purpose?"

Hermione found herself explaining all about what had led her to start S.P.E.W., what she had done with it while at school, and how she was hoping somehow to be able to affect magical law in regard to the treatment of magical creatures. She was surprised how easy it was to open up to this woman, to talk fluidly and not be interrrupted or judged. It made a nice change from the passionate and sometimes derisive responses she often got.

"That's very ambitious of you. I suppose there's not really a subject that would help you specifically with that, is there?"

"Not really."

"Do you have a favorite subject?"

"Arithmancy," she answered immediately.

"How did it go this past week?"

Hermione thought about that. Arithmancy had been her favorite subject since she started taking it in third year (prior to that Charms and Transfiguration were a tie). No other Gryffindors from her year took it. It had been mainly Ravenclaws, actually, and all the ones in her year which had taken it had either died in the Battle of Hogwarts or hadn't come back to school for seventh year. So, awkwardly enough, for the two lessons she had had that week, it had only been her and Draco Malfoy.

Despite the awkwardness that presented itself once she and Malfoy realized they were the only two left, both lessons had been…surprisingly pleasant. Malfoy had never spoken much in Arithmancy before (what with her and all the Ravenclaws in there, it had been hard for anyone else to get a word in). However, their lessons so far had been very Socratic, which was unusual for Hogwarts.

Arithmancy was the most theoretical of subjects available. Most other classes alternated between quick lectures focused on theories and laws behind spells or potions or plants, and then applying that knowledge to numerous practical lessons. Arithmancy was different in that while it did have practical applications, half of the lessons were devoted to study of the power of numbers. Professional Arithmancers split their time between attempting to divine the future as well as trying to discover new magical properties of certain numbers.

Hermione had been surprised when Professor Vector had happily exclaimed that her "two best students" had come back for seventh year. She had no idea Malfoy had been that good at Arithmancy. Professor Vector told them that since they both had most of the known properties of numbers down, they would be spending the majority of the year exploring the more obscure branches of Artihmancy. As such, they had spent the past two lessons almost as if they were a conversation between colleagues, tossing around ideas and discussing the merits and weak points of newly introduced theories. Of course, she and Malfoy hadn't really addressed each other, only Professor Vector, but still. It had been nice.

"It went well. Really well," she finally said with a smile.

A bell sounded deeply within the castle, and both women jumped. They glanced at each other, then laughed. It hadn't even felt like an hour. Hermione was shocked that the time had passed so quickly. Sophie stood, and she followed suit.

"Well Hermione, our time is up for this session. Remember that the group session with your fellow seventh years will take place two weeks from tomorrow, and please, if you need someone to talk to, day or night, don't hesitate to knock on my door."

Hermione thanked her, then began her journey back up to the Gryffindor common room.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	3. Session One: Draco

**Author's Note**: Well, I finished this chapter sooner than expected. I guess I'm so excited by this story and by the response I've gotten to it so quickly (thanks so much for the reviews, guys, and to the people who didn't review but put this story on their alert - by the way, I'd love to hear from you!) that I've just been writing every spare minute I can get. If I keep on like this, I expect the next one to be up in a day or two, although you never know, so don't be upset if it takes a week! Hope you enjoy this one!

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><p>Draco didn't care what this woman said, he thought these "therapy sessions" were a load of rubbish. When she had explained to him how the sessions were going to work and why she was there, he had merely grunted. Talking wasn't going to make his father less of an asshole. It wasn't going to make his mother get out of bed. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be able to help him deal with either of those things any better.<p>

"So, Draco, you've got quite a different background than most students that came back to Hogwarts."

He looked at her, then closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath out of frustration. She had said it kindly, as if trying to sympathize with his situation, but he didn't want her sympathy. He hated it.

When people saw him now, they either greeted him with anger or sympathy. Anger at the things he or his father had done, or sympathy at how he had been forced into leading such a life. Both were unpleasant and left a bitter taste in his mouth, although the anger was at least more justified. But at the same time, it wasn't. How was he responsible for his father's actions? His father had done much worse things than he, and what was worse, his father had done them willingly and with pleasure. He, on the other hand, had never enjoyed torturing anyone, and had never, _ever_ killed anyone. His father, Aunt Bella, and the Dark Lord had all chastised him for not deriving pleasure from inflicting pain.

_A young girl sat motionless on the floor. Draco stood over her, his wand hanging limply by his side._

"_Did you enjoy that, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked softly._

_He didn't turn around. "Yes," he replied, as steadily as he could manage._

"_LIAR! You are weak, Draco. Your Aunt has clearly not made an impression on you. Nagini, finish the girl."_

_Draco stepped away from the body as the snake approached but still did not turn around. He was shaking._

"_You disappoint me, Draco," the Dark Lord said coldly, then left the room._

_Draco closed his eyes so as not to watch the girl get eaten, slumped against the wall beside him, and vomited._

At the time, he had felt like a failure. Now, he couldn't care less. He was even glad for it. Anything to set himself apart from people like _them_.

Sympathy wasn't an emotion he enjoyed encountering either, mainly because he felt he didn't deserve it. He had actually _believed_ the things his father had told him. That muggles were filth, that muggleborns were unworthy, and that he, just by being pureblood, was entitled to anything he wanted. But his father had been wrong, so wrong, and Draco had learned that the hard way.

"How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling? Angry. Sad. _Humbled_. A bunch of unpleasant emotions. "Fine."

She looked at him and smiled, a little sadly. "Draco, this is a safe environment. You don't have to pretend everything is fine with me, because I know there's no way that could be true."

"Why not? You don't know me. Perhaps I don't care about anything that's happened to me." The Old Draco would have said that sneeringly, but he merely stated it.

She continued looking at him with that sad smile. "As a therapist, you learn to read people. And I can tell you care, very deeply, about what has happened to you. But that's okay if you don't feel like talking about it yet. We can talk about anything you want."

"I don't want to talk."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think it's going to help. Talking won't change anything."

She nodded slowly. "You're right, it won't. But the point of talking about those things is that it helps you come to terms with them. Haven't you ever confided something in a friend, and even if it didn't change what happened, you felt better about it?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No," he lied. He had confided in someone, once, but they hadn't even been _living_, for Merlin's sake, so it wasn't a complete lie. He _had_ felt better, at least for a while. But talking to her _hadn't _changed anything. He had gone on with his plan, and succeeded, at least with part of it. Death Eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts thanks to _his_ handiwork, and Dumbledore had been killed, even if it hadn't been at the tip of _his_ wand. But despite his success, he hadn't felt the rush of jubilation at the end of it that he had expected. He had just felt sad, and still worried for his family, and had the _tiniest_ bit of regret. Which had grown quite huge during his confinement at the Manor the entire summer.

Sophie had raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, but hadn't called him on his bluff. She merely waited, looking at him, not judging, just looking.

He sighed. "I mean, I confided in a _ghost_ here once, but it didn't really help much. And the two closest friends I had…well, they weren't the type of people I could confide in. So I just don't see the point of these sessions."

She nodded. "Well, Draco, unfortunately I can't let you leave my office 30 minutes early, and I can't allow you to skip the group sessions. But if you do not want to talk to me, I cannot force you. Just know that if you are ever ready to open up, I will be ready to listen." And with that she grabbed the file that was on the table beside her, opened it up, pulled a quill out from one of her pockets, and began writing.

He sat in his chair for a few minutes, watching her, then cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, what am I supposed to do?"

She looked up and smiled at him, then gestured toward the bookshelves along the walls. "You may grab any book you wish and read. Or, you can sit there and daydream. And next session, if you like, you may bring some schoolwork."

He squinted his eyes at her, not sure if she was joking or not. Being unable to decide, he got up from his chair to start perusing the books. She was probably saying that because she thought he would eventually break and pour his heart out to her. She thought wrong. He had been broken before, a year ago, beaten down and confused and terribly, terribly alone. But he was better now, he was determined to **be** better, better than his father, better than any of _them_. And he didn't need to talk to her about his problems. How could that possibly help?

He walked over to one of the bookshelves and looked at some of the titles. _An Introduction to Muggle Philosophers_. Yuck. _The Ten Things Every Witch and Wizard Should Know About Muggles. _No, thanks. He didn't think they were filth anymore, but that didn't mean he wanted to learn about them. _War and Psychology_. What the hell was Psychology? He pulled it out and read the back cover. Oh. Psychology was like what this woman did. And what would the book say? _"People who were involved in war or lost loved ones due to war may experience depression and feelings of hopelessness_._"_ Brilliant! He never could have thought of that on his own!

He sat back down. There were hundreds of books in Sophie's office, but judging by the ones he had seen so far, none of them were going to catch his interest. He watched her writing diligently for a few minutes, then could no longer resist interrupting her. His curiosity was too great.

"What are you writing?"

She looked up at him. "Oh, just some notes."

"About me?"

She answered his question by smiling.

"What could you be writing about me so much for? I've barely said anything the entire time we've been here!" It was hard to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"That doesn't mean I haven't learned anything about you."

He crossed his arms defensively. He fancied himself better at hiding his emotions than that! But he wasn't supposed to be talking to her. As much as he wanted to find out what she thought she knew about him, he needed to resist the temptation to ask. He turned his head and stared into the empty fireplace. After a few moments, she went back to writing. He once again got to his feet, but not with the intention of finding a book to read. Instead, he examined the photographs she had on the walls.

One showed her, about 20 years old, with what were obviously her parents. Sophie was the spitting image of her mother. They were waving happily out of the frame in front of a small cottage. Another showed Sophie perhaps a bit older, standing alone in front of a picturesque, snow-capped mountain. And then there was a picture with her about the age she was now, with a man and a young girl.

The man had his arm around Sophie, and they were both laughing. Sophie had her arm draped over the little girl's chest. The girl was wearing a polka-dot dress and was holding Sophie's hand, swinging it back and forth. Was this Sophie's brother and perhaps his child? Or was it her husband, and their daughter? And if so, why was Sophie teaching at Hogwarts when her daughter was so young? If Professors were married _and_ had children, they generally waited until their children were of school age until they returned back to Hogwarts, since it demanded so much of their time. And this girl couldn't be more than five or six. Perhaps it was just an old photograph? Or maybe it _was_ her brother and his daughter. He turned to look at her.

Well, asking questions about _her_ life wasn't really going to break his rule. He wouldn't be revealing anything about himself.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

She looked up and smiled at him. Apparently she smiled a lot. That usually annoyed him. Old Draco or New Draco, he still thought people smiling too much was unnatural. But for some reason, her smiling didn't annoy him. Maybe it's because somehow he could tell that when _she_ smiled, she meant it.

"Of course not."

"Who's in this picture with you?"

Her smile faltered, but only for a moment. "That is me with my husband and daughter."

He nodded. "How old is she?"

"She was five."

"Was?" he asked, confused. Did she mean her daughter was five when that picture was taken, or did she mean…

"Yes. Both my daughter and husband were killed during the war."

He felt his heart skip a beat. "I didn't…I shouldn't have…I'm sorry," he finished lamely, in a small voice.

She shook her head at him, still smiling, but there was a definite sadness in her eyes now as she did so.

"It's fine, Draco. I don't mind talking about it anymore."

He nodded and walked slowly back to his chair. She watched him as he did so.

"In fact, it's all thanks to therapy that I'm able to talk about it now."

He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Honestly! I was a mess after it happened, completely unable to function. After three months, my mother forced me to talk to one of my colleagues. There's not many magical therapists, of course, but being such a small group we're all familiar with one another. I don't know where I'd be today if it wasn't for that. Really, it's quite a shame that so many people in our world don't even know what therapy is. It's incredibly helpful."

He felt his respect for her rise, even if he still didn't think that therapy would help _him_. She was obviously a strong woman. She glanced down at her watch.

"Well, Draco, it's only a few minutes until nine. I suppose I don't mind letting you go a bit early this time. I'll see you in two weeks for the group session, okay? And if you change your mind and decide you want to talk to someone, you know where to find me."

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><p>Hope I didn't disappoint you, <strong>2Dismybestfriend<strong>, with my Draco characterization! He'll be developing over the story, of course, but it's hard to get him down, becuase I want him to retain remnants of his former self, but he can't be the exact same muggle-hating, pureblood-ideology-spewing person...anyway, hope you **all** liked it!


	4. Session One: Pansy

**Author's Note**: Whoo! Chapter four up already. This chapter is going to feature a _lot_ of background info on Pansy, so you have been warned. Much less dialogue in this chapter than the others. But I had a lot of fun writing it. Pansy isn't a character you learn much about in the books or from J.K. (except that J.K. hates her), so it was fun making up a back story for her, explaining why she was so mean and how _she_ became reformed. Hope you all like it!

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><p>"So, Pansy, how was your first week back at school?"<p>

She pondered the question. _She_ didn't have any problem being honest with Sophie. Draco had told her he didn't intend on talking to _anyone_ about _anything_ because it wouldn't change what had happened. And Blaise…well, Blaise had _never_ really been much of a talker. She knew both of them would be guarding their secrets and feelings from anyone who tried to discern them. But she had no problem talking. In fact, she thought she might rather enjoy it.

"It was okay. A bit weird, being surrounded by people that hate me, although I suppose everyone that's not in Slytherin has always felt that way. But this year, there's a lot less Slytherins for me to hide behind, so it was much more apparent."

Sophie nodded encouragingly, obviously pleased with her unreserved response. "What do you mean by that? Hiding behind your peers?"

Pansy blew some air out of the corner of her mouth, causing a lock of her black hair to fly around wildly. "Well, I've always been a bit of a…bitch, if I'm honest." She grinned wickedly at Sophie. "It's almost as if I can't help it. Mostly to girls, but I never discriminated."

Sophie nodded some more, a slight frown appearing on her face.

"A bitch how?"

Pansy was glad to see this woman didn't have any problems tossing around foul language. She decided she liked her. "Oh, you know. Cutting them down. Calling them ugly."

"Why do you think that was?"

Pansy crossed her legs, leaning back in the armchair, thinking. Then she shrugged. "Self-esteem problems? I don't know. Daddy issues, more likely."

"What makes you say that?"

Pansy snorted, amused. "You've read my file, haven't you? My Mum died when I was eight. She was always rather fragile, got ill and couldn't recover. It was hard on me, I loved her _so_ much, wanted to be just like her. She was so beautiful. And my father, he treated her like a _queen_. And while she was alive, he treated _me_ well too. His Queen and Little Princess, he used to call us. And then she died, and all of the sudden he was never around anymore. Always off on business."

"That must have been very hard on you. Losing your mother when you were so young, and then not having your father to help you through it."

"Yes, it was. I tried everything I could think of to get him to notice me. First just little things, girly things, drawing pictures, baking sweets, with our house elf's help, of course. But then I thought, maybe I need to impress him. So I started going into his study and reading his books, and trying to understand them and talk with him about them. But…he was never home. I used to fall asleep in our parlor, waiting for him to arrive. I could never stay up late enough, and by the time I woke up the next morning, he was already gone. So I stopped trying to get _his_ attention, and focused on the attention of others."

Sophie nodded again, her brows furrowed in thought. Pansy watched her, letting the silence stretch, not finding it the least bit uncomfortable.

"So why do you think that translated into you being mean to other people?"

Pansy began jiggling her foot, thinking. "I don't know, I guess I always felt…_jealous_ of them, or something. If I saw them acting happy, I was-I was jealous, and wanted to cut them down and-and bring them down on my level, because I was completely _miserable_." The words seemed to cost her a great deal to say, not because she didn't want to say them, but because it was now, in this moment, that she was actually thinking hard about it, the why behind her malice.

"Do you regret the things you said, looking back?"

Pansy was silent for a moment. "Yes," she said finally, definitely. And she was, honestly. It was so stupid of her to have been so mean, there was no reason for it, she had finally realized. She used to be so frivolous, only concerned with looks and marrying well and being taken care of. Even after her father had abandoned her, she had still believed that she would be able to rely on a man to take care of her. But the war had changed that.

The war had brought a change to her way of life, her way of thinking. Neither of her parents had ever been **fervent** Voldemort supporters, although her father _had_ held some pureblood beliefs that her mother had not shared. When her mother was alive, her parents had gotten over their disagreements on such matters simply by not talking about them. And it had been easier to do so in those days, after Voldemort had fallen and it didn't seem he would ever be returning. Her mother had passed many years before he was reborn, and it wasn't until then that Pansy's father began having issues at work.

She had never been _quite_ sure what exactly it was that her father did. She knew he owned some sort of business which participated in the importation of magical products. Before Voldemort's first downfall, he had avoided being forced into the ranks of the Death Eaters by secretly allowing the importation of Dark objects. And he honestly had no qualms with that, although Pansy was sure if her mother had known she would have had something to say about it. After Voldemort was reborn, though, he was not so lucky. He began to be pressured to join the inner circle, to have the Dark Mark burned onto his arm. At the time, Pansy had wanted him to do it. She thought it exciting and glamorous. She thought it would bring her closer to the Malfoys, with whom her family had always been pleasantly acquainted but _not close enough_. Pansy was in awe of Draco, his beauty, his charm (when he _wanted_ to be charming), his family's power. She wanted nothing more than to marry him and be a dutiful Death Eater wife as her husband and the Dark Lord led the way to creating a New World.

How naïve she had been.

The summer before her sixth year, her father had finally started coming home. But he often locked himself in his study with a bottle of fire whiskey, passing out in an armchair by the fireplace to be covered with a blanket by their house elf Prissy. Pansy used to sneak peeks at him through the crack in the door, and what she saw disturbed her. When her mother was alive, her father had been a handsome man, retaining his youth well. He seemed to emit a glow of happiness when he was around her mother. A usually kind but reserved man, her mother was able to bring him out of his shell and make him sparkle with life. And while after her mother's death her father had never been around, Pansy had been able to retain that image of him in her mind. But this man she saw slumped before the fireplace…she didn't recognize him. He looked old, tired, and defeated. Broken. Helpless. Pathetic. She had never been so scared in her life. She counted down the days until her return to Hogwarts. She couldn't wait to get back to school and be surrounded by her Slytherin friends, who all seemed to crackle with an unknown energy when they talked about "the cause". She wanted to see their energy and be reminded that when you served the Dark Lord you would reap the rewards, not be turned into what her father had become.

But that didn't happen. She watched the entire year as Draco steadily became more reclusive, began looking ill and exhausted all of the time. And it finally dawned on her that serving the Dark Lord wasn't glamorous at all. The few times Draco was around her she was able to see the horror in his eyes, and just how terrified he was. He wasn't enjoying himself. He was in _agony_. And she hated it. Not just because he was her friend and she cared about him, but because that look in his eyes would soon fill _hers_, if she wasn't careful.

So she began thinking. Pansy had never been regarded as a particularly smart girl, but that was because she had never tried very hard in school. She wasn't dumb, she just had never thought she would _need_ to try very hard, because she planned on marrying and having a _man_ take care of her as soon as possible. To her, it looked like the Dark Lord was going to win. After Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had been killed by a man the Order of the Phoenix had thought was on _their_ side, how could he not? So she needed to do whatever was necessary in order to survive. And she had done just that. It didn't matter to her much about muggleborns or muggles or any of that nonsense. It never had, really, she had just said it because she thought she was _supposed_ to. And because Draco believed it. But now, she said it because she _had_ to, if she was going to stay alive. Weren't Slytherins famous for only being concerned with saving their own skin? Well then she was Slytherin, through and through.

And so she had carried on through her seventh year, taunting the members of Dumbeldore's Army, ratting them out when necessary. And when Harry Potter had shown up in May, and the Dark-freaking-Lord _demanded_ he be handed over or they would all **die**, who were they to refuse? So she had jumped up and screamed, terrified that it might be the end of them all, the end of _her_, if they didn't.

Of course, all the members of bloody Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff refused, and at the time, all she had thought was _good riddance_. She had left the castle as quickly as she could, apparated home, and sat in her father's study all night, waiting for him to come home. But he never had. And as the sun rose on that fateful morning, news came streaming in over the radio that _the Dark Lord had been killed, Voldemort had been killed by Harry Potter_, and Death Eaters were being rounded up as they spoke. She had sat frozen in her chair for she didn't know how long, ten minutes, or an hour, or five. And all she had thought, over and over again, was: _he's gone. He's gone. He'sgonehe'sgonehe'sgonehe'sgone. _And finally, _it's over_. And a huge grin had spread across her face, and her screams of joy had brought a frantic Prissy in the room, and she had grabbed the old elf's hands and spun with her around the room.

It wasn't until then that a heavy weight seemed to lift off of her, and she realized that she had been living with such _fear_ for so long, and now she wouldn't have to! Her father wouldn't have to! They were all safe, safe from such nonsense because who cared, really? Who cared that much about something so silly that they were willing to waste their _lives, _their very happiness on it? She had seen that happen to her father, to Draco, and she had been terrified it would happen to her. But she had escaped it. Everyone left had escaped it. They were going to be okay.

Doors began opening for her that day, as she sat in her father's study. As she had said before, when she was younger, all she had planned for her life was marrying well and being the wife of a prominent Death Eater (Draco had always been the aforementioned Death Eater in her mind's eye). But for the last two years, she hadn't thought about her future at all, she had just been living day to day. But _now_…_now_ there were whole _worlds_ open to her that she had never even thought about. She didn't even have to marry, if she didn't want to, because she had learned how to survive on her own! She could do anything, be anything!

Her few hours of bliss were interrupted later that evening when a pair of grim-faced Aurors had knocked on her door. They had taken her father into custody, and could she please come down to the Ministry? She had grabbed her cloak hurriedly and followed them suspiciously, wondering if they were going to do something to her. Her father, it turned out, had handed himself over to the Aurors quietly after the battle. He had always tried to stay as uninvolved as possible in Death Eater affairs, and for that the Ministry was going to be lenient. Only three months in Azkaban. They had allowed her to see him before they took him away, and it was a reunion she would never, ever forget, as long as she lived.

Her father was sitting on a low wooden bench in a dimly-lit stone corridor. There was an Auror guarding him, and they retreated a bit as Pansy approached, allowing them some privacy. Her father looked up at her face only when she stood right in front of him.

He studied her quietly for a few moments. He looked much the same as when she had last seen him: lines around the tired blue eyes, hair going gray, unkempt. But something had changed. In his eyes, she saw something she hadn't seen in them for almost ten years. At first she almost couldn't tell what it was, but then she realized it was _hope_. She felt something swelling up in her heart, and she felt like in a moment it might burst.

"Pansy," he had breathed quietly. "My sweet girl. My Little Princess. You look just like your mother." And with that she couldn't take it anymore, she had fallen down crying, her arms around his shoulders, her head buried in his chest, and he was crying too. After about ten minutes they finally stopped, got a grip on themselves. She was sitting on the floor in front of him, her legs folded underneath her, unaware of the cold stone cutting into her shins. He had put two fingers under her chin and raised her face to look at his.

"Pansy, when I get out, I promise things will be different. They'll go back to how they were before. And _you _promise me one thing, okay? Promise me that you won't _ever_ make my mistakes."

She had nodded up at him, biting down on her lip as her eyes filled with tears again. The Auror came over and led her father away, and she remained sitting on the floor, silent tears streaming down her face. No one came over to ask her to leave, or offer her help, or ask her if she was okay, or said anything to her, really. But she was glad for it. She didn't think she could have taken them being mean or indifferent, but she thought she would have been equally unable to bear any sympathy they might have offered. She couldn't just feel sorry for herself forever.

Finally she had gotten herself up off the floor, dusted herself off, and went back home. And she vowed to herself then that she would not break the promise she had made to her father. She would not make his mistakes. She would be different. She knew it might be hard. Seemingly impossible, in fact. But she would prove to _everyone_ that she was not the stupid, callous girl they all thought her to be.

First things first, though. _She_ needed to figure out who she really was.

"Are you going to try and change?" Sophie asked her. She didn't say it like she expected it of Pansy. Not in a mean way, though, as if she didn't think Pansy could or would do it. Just in a way that showed she understood Pansy would do whatever she wanted, and Sophie didn't expect her to be one way or the other. It was nice.

"I am. I promised my father I would. We reconciled before he was sent to Azkaban, and had a few weeks together before I came back to school. We're both trying to get our lives in order, which is hard, since so many people are judgemental toward anyone who was sympathetic with Voldemort."

Sophie didn't flinch at the sound of the name, which only increased Pansy's amiable feelings toward her. Pansy had never said the name before he was killed, but now that he was dead she thought it was silly when people were still scared to say it. He was _dead_, for Merlin's sake! What was he going to do to them?

Sophie smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear you want to be different. I'm sure it is very hard encountering negative attitudes when you are trying to change."

Pansy nodded. "It is, but I don't blame them, really. I'm just waiting for the day when I finally prove to them that I have changed, that me and my father both have, and hopefully then, they'll be willing to accept us."

"What if they don't?"

Pansy shrugged. "Then screw them. I don't need to waste _too_ much time on it. I've got a life to live, after all."

Sophie smiled at her again. "Yes, you do. If you try to show people that you've changed, and they refuse to accept it, they probably aren't worth your time anyway."

"Exactly." Pansy was glad Sophie felt the same way she did about it. She was obviously going about this whole thing the right way, which was good to know.

"Well, Pansy, I have thoroughly enjoyed our session together. You're one of the few students who has opened up to me so far, and I appreciate that you feel you can trust me. The group session with your fellow seventh years is a week from this Saturday, but if you want to talk to me about anything before then, just let me know."

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><p>Hope you all found it enjoyable! I won't make promises about the next chapter (I'd hate to break it), but I expect it won't be too long before it's up...<p> 


	5. First Group Session

**Author's Note**: Oh my goodness it took me so long to update! I apologize a MILLION TIMES OVER. Hopefully it will never take me that long again. Usually I just sit down, think about the chapter I'm about to write, and then pound it out in a couple of hours (usually I'll sleep on it and edit it a bit the next day). But for some reason this one gave me a lot of trouble. It's kind of a transitioning chapter, like not a lot happens but it's necessary for the story to progress in the way I want it to. I hope you don't find it too boring or off-putting, because I promise the next chapter will have much more happening. At least in the whole new-friendships-forming-breaking-barriers department. Whoo!

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><p>Sophie looked around her office, studying the students that sat before her. Only twelve had returned to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year: four Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs, three Slytherins, and two Ravenclaws. They were united in their goal to put the past behind them and start anew, but looking at them now it was easy to see that they had no idea that they shared any similarities at all. They had sat according to their respective Houses, almost as if they were afraid of one another: the three Hufflepuffs on one couch, the three Slytherins on the other, the two Ravenclaws in the armchairs by the fireplace, and two Gryffindors apiece in the loveseats. She studied each group curiously.<p>

Ernie, Hannah, and Susan seemed very comfortable with each other. They sat on their couch chatting quietly but happily, as if they were used to being a cozy threesome. It was an entirely different story with the Slytherins. Blaise sat at the very edge of the couch, looking directly ahead of him and not talking at all. Draco and Pansy seemed more at ease, but were still sitting rather quietly. Sophie observed Pansy try vainly to engage Draco a few times in conversation, and while he responded politely, his answers were obviously not encouraging, because after a few minutes Pansy gave up, crossed her arms and legs, and began jiggling her foot. On most people that might be perceived as an impatient gesture meant to convey annoyance, but Pansy seemed to do it unconsciously when she was thinking about something. She had a far-off look in her eyes, as if she wasn't really seeing what she was looking at.

The two Ravenclaw boys, Anthony and Michael, seemed to get on fairly well, although they weren't speaking to each other in a way that suggested intimacy. Sophie thought she knew why: Anthony had confessed to her in their individual session that his best friend had been Terry Boot, who had opted to enter the Auror Training Program rather than come back to school. Anthony and Michael had been close in earlier years, but according to Anthony, Michael had become rather girl crazy his last two years at Hogwarts and the boys had grown apart. Especially considering Michael's tendency (at least as Anthony told it) to date girls either he or Terry had had their eyes on.

And then there were the four Gryffindors. Parvati and Lavender were very obviously the best of friends: the two girls had walked in jabbering happily and hadn't stopped since. Hermione and Neville, though sitting near them, were decidedly apart from them. She did not find this odd in the slightest. Parvati and Lavender were easily identified as two girls who loved to gossip. The war had forced them to grow up in certain ways, and the fact that they had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and lived to tell the tale showed that both girls possessed intelligence and bravery underneath their superficiality. Yet, they had happily returned to their habit of mindless speculation about who was dating who and what they thought of so-and-so's haircut. And while she did think that the girls genuinely cared about such matters, it was also possible that they were so concerned with them in an attempt to return to normalcy. How their lives were before the war. The thought filled her with sadness.

Then there was Hermione and Neville, the Head Boy and Girl! Both considered war heroes, famous throughout all wizarding Britain. They were so vastly different from their two housemates. The war showed in everyone's eyes, but on few others was it more noticeable than with Hermione and Neville (the only one in the room who matched them was Draco). Both had determined spirits, which she had seen in their individual sessions. Sophie had been rather taken aback at Hermoine's zeal to help others (she had spoken about her organization S.P.E.W. most passionately), and she had been amazed at Neville's humility. Both were quite accomplished academically; Neville, she had heard, though average in other lessons, was brilliant in Herbology (Professor Sprout had told her that he was the best student she had ever had in her forty years at Hogwarts), and Hermione had been touted as "the cleverest witch of her age" by more than one Professor. If any people seemed less likely to want to gossip, it was these two.

Hermione and Neville seemed happy and comfortable with each other, although Neville seemed to be doing most of the talking. Hermione seemed at times to be distracted, and she had to ask Neville to repeat himself more than once. She seemed to still be missing the company of her two best friends, a void which Neville did not appear to be able to fill.

Sophie hoped that these group sessions would be able to change this arrangement. The individual sessions were to help the students with their own problems. The group sessions were actually meant to help them form inter-house bonds. Professor Dumbledore's portrait had believed that putting the students together and having them open up to one another about their experiences would help them discover their similarities. She had thought it was a wonderful idea, but seeing how scared they were of each other, how wary…she would be surprised (but pleased) if they managed to bond in only nine group sessions!

She cleared her throat, and what little chatter that had been going on stopped.

"Welcome to your first group session! I'm very happy that all of you made it here today. Before we begin, I would like to lay down a few guidelines for what will go on in this room. First and foremost, I ask you all to respect your peer's privacy and not repeat to anyone what they may say while in this room. As it is a safe space for you with me in your individual sessions, so should it be for everyone during these group sessions."

"Second, though equally important, I must remain firm on the fact that **no one** is to ridicule or belittle **anyone's** thoughts, feelings, or opinions. You all believe your own thoughts and feelings are valid, and I ask you to extend the same courtesy to your peers. If you do not, I am afraid I will be forced to refer you to the Headmistress. After all, you are all of age. I would hope you are able to act like it. From what I have seen of each of you, I know you are all capable of behaving in a mature manner. Please, don't disappoint me."

She paused for a moment to allow her last sentence to sink in.

"Third, and last, I never want anyone in this room to say anything unless you are comfortable with doing so. That being said, these sessions are only as good as **you** make them. I am only here to help things along; it is up to each of you to contribute to the sessions to make them worthwhile. After all, it would be very boring to sit here for an hour in silence, not to mention rather awkward! So please, don't be afraid of speaking up because you are worried someone might judge you, or laugh at you. You might be surprised at what you find out about each other!"

She smiled at them warmly. They were all looking at her (except for Blaise, who continued to stare straight ahead), most wide-eyed and dubious, although a few of them returned the smile weakly.

"So!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "I thought to get things warmed up we might engage in an exercise. I know it might seem silly, considering what I just said about you all being adults, but I believe it will help to get you all talking!"

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><p>Hermione fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably. Sophie had asked them to go around the room and say what they liked most about returning to school and why. She had started with Michael and Anthony, who each immediately answered with being able to return to studying their favorite subjects (Charms and Ancient Runes, respectively). Susan and Hannah had each said being back in the company of good friends (meaning each other and Ernie). Now it was Ernie's turn. He sat on the Hufflepuff couch contemplating gravely, as if the question was of the utmost importance. Hermione liked Ernie because he was a good person, but his pompous nature got on her nerves a bit. As the silence stretched on and he "hmmm'd" dramatically, she fought the urge to roll her eyes. She glanced around the room and saw that Pansy Parkinson <em>was<em> rolling her eyes. Hermione looked back down at the floor and bit her lip to keep herself from laughing.

"I would have to say," he began solemnly, "that my favorite thing about returning to Hogwarts is knowing that I am laying the foundation to continue my education after graduation if I find it necessary to do so."

Hermione smirked down at the floor. He was such a politician. Sometimes Ernie reminded her of Cornelius Fudge, although Ernie had significantly more backbone.

"Very admirable," Sophie smiled at him. "And what about you, Pansy?"

Pansy seemed to be chewing on a piece of gum, but then Hermione realized it was just the inside of her mouth. "Getting a second chance," she said straightforwardly. Then she turned to look at Draco. He glanced at her, then at Sophie, then sighed in a resigned sort of way, as if he knew he would have to answer or he'd be getting an earful from Pansy.

"Being back in Arithmancy."

"And you, Blaise?" Sophie asked.

Blaise did not turn his head to indicate that he had heard her, but continued staring at the bookshelf across the room from him. Hermione wondered if he was going to answer. When he did, she was surprised at the softness in his voice. She couldn't recall ever hearing him speak much, but he looked like he would have a much harsher voice than he actually did.

"I like being away from home."

Everyone stared because of the detached way he said it. So hollow, devoid of feeling. It made Hermione feel rather sad for him. His favorite thing about being back was that it wasn't home? How bad could his home be? Wasn't he terribly rich? That statement didn't really fit in with her image of Blaise Zabini at all. There was an awkward pause, and Sophie seemed to struggle with herself about something.

"Would you like to tell us why you are glad not to be at home?"

Blaise finally turned away from the bookshelf and looked at her. "No," he said simply, and left it at that. The moment might have become more awkward than the last, but Sophie glided through it smoothly.

Parvati and Lavender cited each other as the best thing about being back at Hogwarts, since both had spent the entire summer with their families. Apparently they were used to taking trips to visit one another over the holidays. It reminded Hermione of spending the majority of her summers with the Weasleys.

"And you, Hermione? What has been the best thing about returning to Hogwarts for you?"

Hermione bit on her lip and began to chew it nervously. If she was honest, she'd been having a pretty lousy time so far. She had hoped that Ginny would be able to act as a diversion from Ron and Harry's absence, but Ginny had been made Quidditch Captain and seemed to be practicing as much as possible in order to keep her own mind off the fact that Harry wasn't there. As such, Hermione was much reminded of her first year before she became friends with Ron and Harry: she was spending almost all of her free time studying (the other part she spent formulating plans for S.P.E.W.). And as much as she loved getting good grades and had always chided Ron and Harry for distracting her from her studies, now that they weren't there to do it…she found that she rather missed it.

But she was just wallowing in self-pity. She truly enjoyed her classes. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was quite good, and Professor McGonagall had continued teaching the N.E.W.T. level Transfiguation classes, as they hadn't had time to find an advanced enough replacement yet. And her Arithmancy class! She looked forward to it more than any other. They were covering such fascinating and obscure subject matter…

Still, it would be nice to have a friend **at school**. A _real_ friend, someone that was all her own, that she didn't have to share with others, as she felt she had to with Ginny. But she wasn't sure there was anyone at school that she could _connect_ with. Sure, she loved Neville and Luna, and enjoyed their company, but they weren't the type of people she would ever share her deepest thoughts and feelings with. Besides, they were quite close anyway. They wouldn't need her like she would need them.

She sighed. She needed to answer this question.

"My Arithmancy classes. They've always been my favorite, but they're fantastic this year."

It took her a second to realize she had just given essentially the same answer as Draco Malfoy. He seemed to notice too, because he caught her eye for a moment, his brow furrowed. She held his gaze, almost amused at the absurdity that she and _Draco Malfoy_ liked the same thing about being back at Hogwarts, and then he looked away.

Sophie nodded at her, smiling as usual, then turned to Neville. "And you, Neville?"

Neville had been sitting with his hands clasped, looking at each person seriously as they spoke. Now he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"You know," he began quietly, "I thought I was going to say being back in the Greenhouses here. But now that I think about it….I'd have to say just seeing that everyone is moving forward is the best thing about being back."

The room became oddly quiet, and everyone seemed to stop moving and stare, transfixed, at Neville. He seemed nervous to continue, but then clenched his jaw, looked up, and began speaking once more.

"After the Battle everyone was so happy and relieved, and it was a really great moment. But then looking around at all the destruction, at everything we had lost, it was sort of overwhelming, you know? And I kind of wondered if things would be the same when I came back. And they aren't, of course, they aren't at all. But it's okay. Even though it's not the same as it was, it's still good. We're still good. Everyone is moving on, and it's…it's just nice to see that."

Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly. She knew exactly what he meant, and she was glad he had said it. He looked at her and gave her a small smile.

"Thank you for sharing that, Neville. I'm sure it is a sentiment most of us, if not all of us, share with you. I'm very glad you **all** shared something, and I'm sure some of you are surprised to find that others gave the same answer!" Here Sophie glance at Hermione, then looked pointedly at Draco. Hermione felt a faint blush creep onto her cheeks. She hadn't done it on purpose!

"Now, I'd like to go back in the same order, but have everyone say what they like _least_ about being back."

Hermione noticed everyone in the room visibly stiffen (expect for Zabini. She didn't think it would be possible for him to become anymore stiff than he had been, really). She did not think she was going to like answering this question.

"So, Michael, let's start with you again!"

Hermione looked at him. He had crossed his arms in a defensive manner, and looked sideways at Anthony. Then he took a deep breath, inexplicably glanced at Neville, and said steadily, "I don't like feeling alone."

If possible, an even more profound silence followed his statement than had followed Neville's. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. That summed it up perfectly for her.

Without any prompting Anthony placed his hand on Michael's shoulder and said quietly, "Same here." Michael nodded his head in appreciation.

"I feel the same way, too."

Everyone's heads turned to look at Neville.

"Even though so many of my friends are still at Hogwarts, it's hard not to feel alone when so many people that should be here are…gone."

Hermione felt herself getting choked up and closed her eyes in an attempt to keep them from watering. What the hell was wrong with her? She needed to pull it together.

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><p>Pansy sat listening as her peers bonded over how alone they felt. <em>They<em> felt alone? At least they had _some_ friends! She had none, except for Draco, who didn't really count right now because he was barely talking to her. All he did was go to class and eat dinner and do his homework and go to bed. He had refused the offer to become Quidditch Captain and wasn't even flying anymore. Most of his free time was spent in the library, studying and reading, or something. She had accompanied him there on a few occasions, but he had been so unwilling to engage in _any _kind of conversation, and she had found the silence oppressing.

What she needed was a friend. A _girl_ friend, to be precise. But who? She looked around the room. Hannah and Susan were already best friends, and they weren't her type anyway. Too…happy? Nice? No, that wasn't it. They were too _passive_. They lacked passion, at least from what she had seen. And sure, she'd give them the benefit of the doubt and say maybe they were just more reserved around people they weren't close with, but Pansy liked people who didn't have a problem airing their thoughts (and sometimes feelings) to the whole wide world.

Parvati and Lavender were inseparable, but she could see herself getting along with them. They were interested in _some_ of the same things, because let's face it, even though she had vowed to care about more important issues, she still liked being aware of the latest trends. But Parvati and Lavender were a little _too_ close. It kind of creeped her out. Besides, from what she had seen of _them_, they didn't have a whole lot of substance. Pansy could keep up in a conversation about the new style of robes from Gladrags with the best of them, but she didn't want it to stop there. This was the New Pansy! She needed someone to discuss her hopes and dreams with.

Well…she needed someone to discuss what could _become_ her hopes and dreams with.

So who did that leave? Her eyes continued scanning the room, then stopped. Hermione Granger.

Pansy pondered this option. Granger seemed like a good choice if only for the simple fact that her two best friends were no longer at school (so she was kind of in need of a friend too…maybe. Perhaps she liked being alone? She was a notorious bookworm, after all). She was smart and ambitious, which might be good for the New Pansy. It could help motivate her. But best of all, Pansy had definitely caught Granger biting back a laugh when she had seen Pansy rolling her eyes at Ernie's dramatic performance earlier. So the girl had a sense of humor too. Who knew?

Pansy looked at her again. Granger looked on the edge of tears with all the loneliness talk that was going on, but she seemed to be pulling herself together rather well. She said something about how it had been hard for her the past two weeks, but she didn't want to get caught up in feeling sad for herself. So she wasn't a blubbering idiot, but didn't mind _talking_ about her _feelings _(unlike Draco lately). Pansy liked that.

Yes, Granger could potentially be a very good friend indeed.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are appreciated all the time, but I'm particularly interested to see how you guys feel about this chapter, since it's a bit different from what you've gotten so far.<p> 


	6. Unexpected

**Author's** **Note**: Hello friends! I was **very** encouraged by the positive reviews I received for the last chapter, thanks so much!

Let me preface what I'm about to say by first saying that I LOVE AND APPRECIATE _**EVERY SINGLE**_ REVIEW I GET. Hell, I even get excited when someone puts this on their story alert list but doesn't review (although nothing is better than getting a review *wink*). But while I tried to reply to every review I got, I couldn't bring myself to reply to the reviews that only said they liked the story or that they thought I wrote well. I know this is going to sound weird, but I would have felt…vain, or self-absorbed, if I did? I know that sounds ridiculous, but hear me out. I'd feel like I was just trying to draw attention AGAIN to the fact that you like my story or that you think I write well (I realize I'm kind of doing that right now, but this will be the only time, I swear). Which is totally awesome, and I'm INCREDIBLY appreciative. But I don't want you to think I'm just like, reminding you how much you love my story or anything. I know, it's so weird. But that's how I feel. So, I'm so sorry if I didn't reply to your review, but it's just because I don't want you to think I'm a self-absorbed bitch. Yayyyyy. Haha, now, on with the story!

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><p>Hermione sat in the Headmistress's office, staring at Minerva McGonagall and thinking she had not heard her correctly.<p>

"You want us to what, Professor?"

"I believe I was very clear, Ms. Granger. It is my wish that you and Mr. Longbottom come up with a few ideas about how to increase inter-house unity. I will give you two weeks to formulate outlines for your proposals, and then you will submit them to me. Myself and the other Professors will look them over and pick which ones we think would be most easily executed. The best ideas would be one-time events that everyone would be able to participate in. As Head Girl and Boy, it is both your duties to be role models for your classmates and strive to overcome house prejudices!"

Hermione nodded. The events themselves might actually turn out to be fun, although all she could think about at the moment was that it was just extra work for her to do. She glanced at the portrait behind the Headmistress's desk which showed a peacefully dozing Albus Dumbledore. This had to be his idea.

"Now, before I send you both off to bed, there is one thing the other Professors and I have already decided on."

She and Neville looked at each other for the briefest of moments, then back at Professor McGonagall.

"Starting tomorrow, there will no longer be House points. Points will be divided amongst _years_."

"Sorry?" Neville asked, genuinely confused.

"Points will now be given to and taken away from each year, not House. Students will get points deducted or added for the usual reasons, such as acting up or answering questions correctly in class. But they will also be rewarded or punished if they are cooperating or quarreling with those in other Houses."

Hermione contemplated this as her stomach turned uncomfortably. It was going to take some getting used to, but it was actually a brilliant idea.

"I will be making an announcement to everyone tomorrow morning at breakfast, but I wanted both of you to know before I did so. Now, unless either of you have any questions, I will bid you both goodnight."

Hermione and Neville stood up, wished her goodnight, and left. They remained quiet as they walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, each contemplating the new task ahead of them.

"Have any ideas yet?"

Hermione jerked her head, looking at Neville as they rounded a corner on the seventh floor and approached the Fat Lady.

"Well, the first thing that came to my mind was a ball. Like the Yule Ball during fourth year. But just with Hogwarts students, obviously."

Neville nodded in agreement. "I thought that too, but I honestly can't think of anything else right now. But that's a start, right? Want to meet up tomorrow after dinner to draft the proposal for it?"

"Sure. That one shouldn't take too much time, at least." They climbed through the portrait hole together. Neville headed off to the boy's dormitories, and she walked over to Ginny, who was sitting by the fire writing a letter. Ginny looked up as she sat in the armchair next to her.

"Hey! How'd the meeting go?"

Hermione sighed. "It was good, I guess. McGonagall gave Neville and I…a project."

Ginny cocked her head to the side and looked at Hermione with a curious expression on her face.

"What sort of project?"

"She…she wants us to come up with a few events that will increase inter-house unity."

Ginny laughed. "Sounds fun. You guys got anything yet?"

"We both agreed a ball would be good, but that's the only thing we've thought of so far."

Ginny's face lit up. "A ball would be fun!" Then her smile faltered a bit. "Although, I guess we'd have to go with people that are at Hogwarts, huh?"

Hermione laughed. "That's the idea. But…that's not all."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't know why she was reluctant to tell Ginny about the abolition of House points. Maybe it had to with the fact that the Quidditch Cup affected them?

"There's not going to be House Points anymore."

"What?" Ginny had returned to her letter and didn't seem to really hear what Hermione had said.

"There's not going to be House Points anymore. Points will now be divided up by year."

Ginny stopped writing and looked at Hermione in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Huh."

"Yep."

"That's weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Pretty good idea though."

Hermione smiled, although she still felt uneasy about it. "It is. McGonagall's announcing it to the whole school tomorrow morning at breakfast."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to her letter.

"Writing to Harry?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes, it's really the first chance I've had since we've been back and he's already written me twice!"

Hermione felt a pang in her lower stomach that felt a little like jealousy. Harry had already written to Ginny _twice_? She had written to Ron over a week ago and _still_ hadn't gotten a response.

She looked at Ginny as she wrote, longing to say something, to be able to talk to Ginny about how she was feeling (lonely, rejected). But…she would feel uncomfortable talking to Ginny about it, because it was Ginny's _brother_. And even though Ginny definitely had no problem calling out her own family (especially Ron) when they were being ridiculous, Hermione couldn't help but feel awkward about it. And she couldn't talk to Harry either, because he would _definitely_ feel uncomfortable about it. All the times she and Ron had fought over the summer, and Ron had left her in tears, Harry would give her these sad, sympathetic looks. Like he knew just how much it hurt her, and just how much of an ass Ron was being. But he didn't want to mess up their friendship, so he had adopted a policy of "I'm not going to talk to you about this, go talk to each other." Which was a good policy, she supposed, considering his situation, but Ron was able to talk to George or Bill if he wanted to. She, on the other hand, had no one else. And it sucked, frankly. It really sucked.

"Well, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Ginny didn't even look up from her letter. "'Night, Hermione."

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><p>Hermione walked down the stairs into the Entrance Hall with slight trepidation. She looked at where had once been four hourglasses and saw seven instead. Some students walking by noticed and pointed, speculating to their friends what it was about, but most marched into the Great Hall without seeing the change.<p>

She couldn't exactly explain what upset her so much about it, because she honestly thought it was a good idea. The rivalry that naturally existed between Houses was increased tenfold when it came to the competition of the House Cup. Since they were keeping House Quidditch teams, it would be good to have a reason for students in each year to bond with their fellows, regardless of House, for a common purpose, a common glory. She must not like it because it was just one more change to the school. One more thing that was different, that wasn't like how it had been before the war. But this would be a change for the better, so she needed to embrace it. She walked over to the wall where the hourglasses hung to examine them more closely.

Above each one was a brass number to indicate which year it represented. When points had been awarded to Houses, each hourglass was filled with a gemstone that coincided with one of the houses' colors: red rubies for Gryffindor, green emeralds for Slytherin, blue sapphires for Ravenclaw, and yellow topaz for Hufflepuff. Now all the stones were mixed together within each hourglass. To symbolize camaraderie, she supposed. But the effect was really rather pretty. She…sort of liked it.

With a slight smile, she turned and walked into the Great Hall.

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><p>Hermione was not having a very good day. It wasn't the worst day of her life (she was pretty sure that had been sometime during the war), but it certainly wasn't a good one. She had finally received an owl from Ron that morning at breakfast. And what had his reply to her three-page, heartfelt love letter been?<p>

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry you're having a hard time adjusting to school. Maybe you should try hanging out with Ginny more? She'd probably make you feel better. Auror training is going really well, although I'm exhausted all the time. Went out last weekend for the first time with Harry, George and Angelina at the Leaky Cauldron. They're going to date, I think. They've been hanging out a lot, talking about…well. You know. _

_Let me and Harry know when the first Hogsmeade trip is. We'll come visit you and Gin._

_Ron_

And while the thought of seeing him and Harry definitely lifted her spirits, _that _was all he had said? She had spent _two hours_ writing him a letter, _writing _to him about her feelings since he refused to _talk_ about them over the summer. She hadn't even mentioned Remus or Tonks or Fred, because she was sure that would have made him just rip up the letter and throw it in a fire. No, she had talked about how lonely she was without him and Harry there, and how she couldn't hang out with Ginny because she was so busy with Quidditch, and she couldn't visit Hagrid because he'd been meeting up with Madame Maxime on weekends, and she was so busy during the week with all the homework she had with _seven_ N.E.W.T. classes, and these therapy sessions were worrying her, but she felt it was her responsibility as Head Girl to set an example, but she feared she wouldn't be able to…

And _that_ was all he had written in reply. One measly little paragraph plus two sentences.

She loved Ron. He was the love of her life, wasn't he? The One. They hadn't _talked_ about it, of course, but who else could there be? In her mind, she had a plan. Graduate, get a job, wait until she was established in wherever she got a job, wait until he was established in the Auror Office, get married. Start a family, eventually. It was a nice plan. It made her feel secure. Happy.

But Ron being a complete _arse_ and not able to communicate with her properly was _not_ part of that plan. She was sure it was just depression from the war, and everyone they had lost. But Ron had _always_ been able to talk to her. All those times at school when Harry was…well, being Harry, she and Ron had spent hours talking about how they were worried about him, and what they should do. During the summer, when she got to the Burrow before Harry did, Ron would talk to her about anything, family problems (mainly Percy), his worry for his Dad at work. And it had been so _easy_. So what had changed?

Well, there were only two options. Fred (she closed her eyes briefly in pain to even think about it), or them starting to date.

She sighed. She needed to start on her Charms essay. She and Neville had just finished the proposal for the ball, so that was done, at least. They hadn't been able to think of any other ideas yet, and she was wondering if they'd be able to over the next two weeks in between all the work they had to do. Still, she only had an hour or so left before the library closed for the night, and there was a book in here she needed. She could brainstorm unity events from the Common Room.

She was impeded from looking for the book she needed, however, by Pansy Parkinson sitting down at her table.

"Hello, Granger."

She froze. She could not remember the last thing she had said to Pansy Parkinson, but she was sure it had been something meant to counter an attack that had been made against herself. And was possibly as long ago as fifth year.

"Um…hello, Parkinson."

And then Pansy Parkinson did something that almost made Hermione fall out of her chair. She _smiled_ at her. Sitting there across the table from her, black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, blue eyes bright, lips red and shiny from some type of gloss, _smiling_.

"What's going on?"

Hermione felt…disoriented. What the hell was she playing at? Parkinson _loathed_ Hermione, and never missed an opportunity to insult her. So why was she plopping down at _her_ table in the library (where, come to think of it, Hermione could not recall ever seeing Parkinson) and act like they were the chummiest of chums? She didn't have time for this.

"I was actually just going to look for a Charms book, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Which book?" Pansy was still smiling at her.

"Um…_Obliviation and The Many Things That Could Go Wrong_."

"Oh! How perfect. I was just going to return it. Here you go!"

Parkinson opened up her dark green leather backpack, pulled out a faded brown book, and slid it across the table toward Hermione.

"Oh…thanks." Hermione grabbed the book and put it into her own bag, trying to take as much time as possible. Unfortunately, when she looked up, Parkinson was still sitting at the table, smiling at her.

"Can I…help you with something?" she asked, feeling ridiculous. But she couldn't understand why Parkinson was still sitting there. Or why she had come over at all, actually.

"Oh, I just wanted to chat. I feel like I haven't used my voice in ages. I've even been answering questions in class lately just so I can exercise my vocal chords!" Here she laughed, as if answering questions in class was just the craziest thing she could have ever done. "Draco never wants to talk anymore and Blaise has never wanted to, at least not to me, so I figured I'd come talk to you!"

Hermione nodded, feeling like she wasn't comprehending the situation at all. Parkinson wanted to chat. With…her. "Oh, okay." She paused, wondering how to proceed. She decided honesty would be the best policy.

"If you don't mind me asking…why did you decide to come talk to _me_, of all people? You hate me, remember? Never miss a chance to tell me what an ugly mudblood I am?"

Parkinson's smile finally faltered. It made Hermione feel better, for some reason. Parkinson smiling at her in what was apparently a non-mocking way had really been freaking her out.

"I know. I know I did. And I really should…apologize for that."

Hermione had frozen again. Was she serious? She sounded serious. She sounded…_remorseful_. Like she actually meant it.

"I've been so horrible all six years we were at school together. Why should you even give me the time of day? You shouldn't. I had no reason to be so mean to you. I'm not going to try and explain why I did it, there's no explanation really, I just want you to know that I'm sorry. And it would be great if we could be friends."

Hermione had remained frozen throughout her entire speech. She felt as if she had just stepped into another world. Pansy Parkinson wanted to be _friends_. Out of _nowhere_. Like it was _no big deal_.

She took a deep breath and thought about it. Yes, Parkinson had been an absolute _bitch_ to her for six years for absolutely _no _reason other than the fact that she was a Gryffindor and muggleborn. And yes, Parkinson had tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. On the other hand, she hadn't _fought_ in the battle (although maybe she was just a great big coward). She hadn't ever _physically_ done anything to harm anyone, that Hermione knew of. She had come back to Hogwarts in order to get a second chance, as she had said this past Saturday in their group therapy session. But most importantly, Hermione was Head Girl. She was supposed to be leading the crusade in moving on, breaking down House barriers, and befriending new people.

Plus, Parkinson had just apologized. It hadn't been particularly noteworthy or extravagant, but she had seemed like she meant it. And…she was hiding it well, she had just brushed off the fact that Malfoy and Zabini weren't really talking to her, but she was obviously feeling lonely. Hermione could relate to that.

"Sure, Parkinson," she finally said. "We can be friends."

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: That chapter was longer than I expected! Which should please some of you. Hope the start of Hermione and Pansy's friendship wasn't too weird and came off as believable. Let me know if it didn't and I can maybe tweak it and reupload. Although that's exactly how I imagine Pansy going about trying to start it, in a very abrupt way…

Now! I hope you guys are reading these author's notes (although I totally understand if you aren't, because I don't read them half the time), because for the first time I am presenting you guys with a challenge! Of sorts. I've already got my own ideas for the "inter-house unity events" that Hermione and Neville are supposed to draw up for McGonagall. And some of them I'm _definitely_ keeping. However! While I would be fine with using all the ones I've got in mind, IF any of you can suggest something that I don't already have and seems super cool, I will use it instead of one of the ones I only feel okay about! Sound good? Now remember, it's supposed to be something that _everyone_ at the school can participate in actively (although everyone could be split up into teams according to year, and if for some reason the first years competing against seventh years would be unfair we could just have them compete against second and third years or something). Don't worry too much about it, I've got enough ideas to do it without help, but there some I'm not totally in love with and I'd love to hear from you guys!

Oh yeah, and as always, hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	7. Session Two: Draco

**Author's Note**: Whoo! Finally some Draco/Herm action in this chapter folks! Thanks SOVERYMUCH for all your reviews and I apologize profusely for taking so long to get this up. Part of it was because I just got a new job (yay!) so that's been taking up some of my time, and part of it was because I started writing a completely different chapter but decided that I wanted this one to come first. Which means that the next chapter is already half written, hooray! As always, hope you enjoy it!

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><p>"Good evening, Draco! Please, have a seat."<p>

Draco walked over to the armchair opposite the one Sophie was in an sat down.

"How have you been?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

She smiled. "Would it be safe for me to assume that you still don't want to talk to me?"

"Yes, it would be safe to assume that." He said it as politely as he could. Her smile never wavered.

"Well then, please make yourself comfortable!"

And she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began writing. He had brought one of his Arithmancy books with him and began reading it, but found that he wasn't really processing the words. He was thinking about the previous week's events.

By "events", he was really only thinking about one thing: the Arithmancy project Professor Vector had assigned him and Granger. To work on. Together. He could think of few things that would be more painful.

Not painful because he still thought she was dirty and a nuisance (he didn't, at least not the dirty part), but because he owed her so much. She had saved his life on multiple occasions, and he had only ever been a nasty immature _git_ to her. He didn't like being in debt to people. He wasn't really sure that was a debt he could ever pay. It made him uneasy.

Also, he really hated feeling _inferior _to people. He had felt inferior to his father when he was growing up, but that quickly changed during his sixth year. He knew that in terms of magical skill he was less advanced than the Dark Lord (who had been terribly powerful), but Draco hadn't admired him (because he was a nutter), so he hadn't ever felt inferior. Terrified of him? Yes. Inferior to him? Not so much.

But he felt inferior to Granger, because not only was she better at him in school, she was an all-around better _person_ than him, and it pissed him the eff off, truth be told. And even though he knew he made better overall grades than either of them, he felt inferior to bloody Potter and Weasley as well, because they were better people too, weren't they? War heroes. All of wizarding Britain wanted to kiss their damn arses. And the worst thing was that they had totally _earned_ for their damn arses to be kissed.

And now he was going to have to spend _extra time_ around Granger. More time for him to realize how much better she was than him. More time for it to piss him off. More time for him to have to hold it all in, though, because the New Draco was trying _not_ to be an insufferable prick. Great.

She had approached him after their class had ended, right after Professor Vector had given them their assignment.

"Um, Malfoy?"

He had been staring down at the stone floor quietly, but looked up at her when she addressed him. She was looking at him strangely. With a mixture of apprehension and something he couldn't quite identify.

"Yes?"

"I'd really like to get started on this right away."

Of course she did.

"So if you're available this evening, we could meet in the library after dinner to get started. Say 6:30?"

He did not respond immediately, and she kept talking.

"I know we have until Christmas, but it's really quite a large project, it will be very involved, and I'd really rather we not put it off…"

"6:30 is fine."

She seemed surprised at his agreeability. He supposed she had expected him to argue, to say that he wasn't available, that he had a very tight schedule and he couldn't be dropping his engagements for a dirty little mudblood like her. Which was fair. The Old Draco would definitely have responded that way.

"Great! Well, I'll-I'll see you then."

And she turned on her heel and marched out of the classroom.

He sighed, gathering his books and notes slowly. He really wasn't looking forward to their meeting.

He walked into the library at 6:30 on the dot. She was already there, sitting at a table in the back. He could have recognized that hair anywhere. She was reading a book he didn't recognize, scribbling notes furiously, but looked up as he sat down.

"Oh! Hello. I've just been -"

"What book is that?"

She seemed surprised, but he was genuinely interested. He could tell by glancing at her notes it was about Arithmancy, but he had never seen it before. He thought he had read every book there was on the subject.

"What? Oh, it's called _Manteia me Arithmos_. It's one of the only books that survived the fire in the Alexandria Library."

He ogled it. He couldn't help it. "How did you _get_ it?"

She smiled and looked down at it fondly. "Harry gave it to me. After he defeated…well, you know…he was given all sorts of presents, even from foreign wizards! He was given this by an Egyptian wizard that knew Bill Weasley from when he was a curse-breaker there. Harry knows how much I love Arithmancy, and books generally I guess, so he gave it to me!" she smiled at him brightly, but she wasn't really smiling at _him,_ just sort of smiling in his direction. He was having trouble processing what she had just said.

"He just…gave it to you?"

She nodded.

"But…but do you know how much that's _worth_?"

She laughed. "I think it's rather priceless, don't you?"

He just stared. "Could I look at it?"

He asked it quietly, almost tentatively, and when she slid it across the table toward him he took it in his hands and held it reverently. He wasn't fond of all subjects (Herbology never did much for him, and he hated Transfiguration), but he had performed well in school because it was expected of him, and he wanted to prove to himself that he could. But Arithmancy…he loved it. To be holding such a treasure was overwhelming. He turned each page delicately, his eyes roving over the text and drinking in every word. He wanted more than anything to ask to borrow it, but he didn't think he could work up the nerve. He was struggling with whether or not he should ask, because asking wouldn't hurt, and was trying to organize how he should approach it, when Granger took the matter out of his hands.

"Do you want to borrow it?"

His head snapped up, not able to believe she had just _offered_. She had said it quietly, and she was looking at him with a peculiar expression on her face.

"You'd let me?" he whispered. Not caring that he was completely letting his guard down, losing it over a _book_.

They looked at each other across the table, and he felt like they were sharing some type of moment, crossing some sort of barrier, and it was kind of freaking him out, and he wanted the moment to stop but he _really_ wanted to be able to read this book so he held her gaze-

"Well," she said, cracking a smile, "I'll have to put a vicious hex on it, so if you somehow manage to break through the protective enchantments you end up with horrible boils on your face, but sure, Malfoy. You can borrow it."

Eff. Just another thing he would owe her for.

And yet, it hadn't been as bad as he thought it would be. They had gotten into their work, and while they definitely hadn't been comfortable with each other, they decided to ignore that and just start the project. It had been very…refreshing for him, to work with someone who seemed to love Arithmancy just as much as he did, someone who was actually efficient. After two hours in the library they stopped, made plans to meet up again on Friday, and had gone their separate ways, him with her book nestled safely in his bag.

He had been trying to read it in every spare moment he got, but sometimes he found it difficult to concentrate, because he couldn't stop asking himself the same question: _why had she let him borrow it?_ Why had she trusted him, someone she had hated for seven years (with good reason), with such a precious item? It didn't make sense to him. _He_ certainly would not have done the same. And he didn't feel like just chalking it up to her being a better person than him was enough. But he couldn't think what else it could be.

And then there was the conversation he had had with Pansy. She had started off the year trying to talk to him everyday, but he didn't do much to encourage her, and for the past few weeks she had stopped. He hadn't thought much of it at first, he just figured she had finally gotten the hint and backed off. But then yesterday he had spotted them together. He thought he was having a bizarre dream, because that was the only explanation he could think of to rationalize why Granger and Pansy were sitting at a back table in the library together, _laughing_. But no, he was awake, and Pansy was doing an impression of something or someone, and Hermione was snorting into her hands trying to muffle the sound.

What. The. Hell.

He had gone back to the Slytherin common room to do his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework and wait for Pansy to return. She didn't come back until 9:00, and it was time to do their Prefect rounds. They set off together, Pansy humming to herself, and finally Draco's curiosity got the better of him.

"I saw you and Granger in the library today."

"Did you?"

"Since when have you two been friends?"

Pansy grinned at him. "Since I asked her if we could be friends."

"Why would you do that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, Draco, you haven't exactly been much for stimulating conversation lately, and I was feeling rather lonely!"

"Yes but why _Granger_?"

Pansy shrugged, twirling her wand between her fingers. "She was the best candidate."

"Oh? And what was your criteria, exactly?"

Pansy looked at him sideways, her brows furrowed. "What's it to you? Why are you so interested anyway?"

He shrugged, staring down the dark hallway in front of them. "I was just thrown off when I saw you two together. You…looked like you were really enjoying yourself."

Pansy laughed. "Yes, imagine that. I suppose it _would_ seem rather strange though, considering our past. But I really quite like her."

Draco had given her a look, questioning her sincerity. Pansy had rarely gotten along with girls.

"Honestly! She's really been helping me become the New Pansy. She's smart, obviously, but she's really not as much of a know-it-all as I always thought she was. She's awfully helpful with Charms, and she's not a stuck-up ninny like most girls. She's sensible, she's got _real_ plans, and it kind of, I don't know, helps inspire me."

Draco had felt the urge to snort but held it in. Pansy glared at him suspiciously anyway, then elbowed him playfully.

"Best of all, she actually _talks_ to me, unlike _some_ people. It's been wonderful getting in some girl talk, even if she isn't what you'd call girly. I know you're completely anti-talking at the moment, but it's quite cathartic. You should try it some time."

He shook his head. "Talking doesn't change anything."

She had rolled her eyes at him. "Oh yes, because _not_ talking has really changed things for you, haven't they?"

She had a point there. That irked him. They continued in silence for a few minutes.

"She gave me a book."

"What?"

"This really rare Arithmancy book she has, she let me borrow it."

"That was…nice of her," Pansy said, sounding a little confused as to why Draco was telling her this.

"I don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"Why she gave it to me."

Pansy laughed again. "People don't always have ulterior motives, Draco."

"I'm not saying that. I just don't understand why she would trust me with it."

"You _love_ Arithmancy, obviously you're not going to let anything happen to it."

"Yes, but _she _doesn't know that. Besides, what if I refused to give it back?"

Pansy snorted. "Draco, if Hermione needed to get that book back from you, she would."

Draco wondered if this was true. He had learned some very powerful spells during his stint as a Death Eater, and if he was using _those_, he wasn't sure Granger would be able to get it back. But he _wasn't_ supposed to be using those. In which case he supposed they would be rather fairly matched. With Granger _possibly_ being a hair better than him. Hmph.

They performed the rest of their rounds in silence, broken occasionally by Pansy's renewed humming, but as they entered their common room Pansy stopped and looked back at him.

"I could ask her, if you like."

He thought about that for a moment, and his stomach churned unpleasantly. "I'd rather you not."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." And she had flounced off to the girl's dormitories.

So here he was. Thursday evening in Sophie's office and wondering whether or not he should just ask Granger himself when they met up tomorrow. He didn't really want to, but only because he didn't want her to know it had been bothering him so much. And yet, at the same time, he _really_ wanted to know. He looked up at Sophie. Well, only one thing left to do. Perhaps Pansy would turn out to be right.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Sophie's head snapped up, and she smiled at him warmly.

"Of course!"

"Well, I'm having a sort of…problem."

She frowned and set aside her parchment.

"What sort of problem?"

He realized that she might be thinking it was something serious. "It's not a big deal, really. It's just…there's this girl."

Her eyes lit up and she grinned at him, a bit mischievously. He blanched.

"Not like that! We've hated each other for seven years."

"There's a very thin line between love and hate."

He scrunched up his face, starting to regret he had begun talking. What did that even mean? But it didn't matter.

"We've been civil to each other so far this year. But recently she let me borrow this really rare book she has, and I honestly can't figure out why she would let me, why she would trust _me_ with it."

Sophie looked at him curiously. "Well, why don't you ask her?"

Draco sighed. "I don't want her to know it's been bothering me."

Sophie smiled at him, a little sadly. He wondered why. "Whoever this girl is, she sounds rather nice to me. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think it will be if you just ask. What are you so afraid of?"

What was he so afraid of? He _wasn't_ afraid, was he? That would be preposterous. He looked up at Sophie. She seemed to have realized something.

"You don't have to be afraid to let people in, Draco."

He decided that Pansy was absolutely _wrong_. Talking had _not_ been helpful. And just to prove Sophie wrong, just to show her that he _wasn't_ afraid, thankyouverymuch, and that this _wasn't _about some supposed deep-seated issues about letting people get too close to him, he was going to ask Granger tomorrow. So _there_.

They carried out the rest of the session in silence.


	8. Session Two: Hermione

**Author's Note**: Oh my! _Another_ chapter, and up so soon? Don't get used to it guys. But I felt rather horrible about taking so long with the last one, and this one was already halfway done, so I figured what the hell. Thanks TIMES A MILLION to all the lovely people who reviewed between now and my last update. I will try and message all of you soon! And, as always, hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p>"So, Hermione, tell me how things have been for you since we last saw each other. Are you feeling better?"<p>

Hermione thought about it, then cracked a slightly bewildered smile. How weird to think that it was _Pansy Parkinson_ that was causing her to do so. Six years of solid hate, all forgotten from three weeks of hesitant friendship? It was utterly bizarre to think about.

But really, Pansy _had_ been a strange comfort to her. She reflected on the number of times they had hung out over the past few weeks.

After their first peculiar library conversation, Hermione had not had much interaction with her over the next few days, save for the occasional exchange in the hallway or after class. That usually entailed Pansy waving energetically at her, to which Hermione would wave back somewhat embarrassed, or Pansy commenting on how much homework they had for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Herbology, which were the only three classes the girls had together. On one such occasion Ginny had spotted Pansy flailing at Hermione on the way to the Great Hall. She had at first thought Pansy was just trying to get Hermione's attention in order to insult her, so Hermione had explained to Ginny everything Pansy had said to her. Ginny was predictably skeptical and suspicious, to which Hermione countered that Pansy seemed to be turning over a new leaf, they were supposed to be forgiving and forgetting, _blahblahblah_. That was probably what it had sounded like to Ginny, at least. She had merely raised her eyebrows at Hermione in order to convey the fact that she was still dubious of Pansy's motives and had begun eating her shepherd's pie with such enthusiasm that Hermione was reminded painfully of Ron and had not felt compelled to continue the conversation.

Hermione had not initiated any contact with Pansy at that point. Mainly because at first, she had not thought that Pansy seriously wanted to become _friends_, real friends, just that she wanted them to be civil toward each other. And also, (though she would never admit it out loud) she too still had her doubts about Pansy's intentions.

However, a few days after their truce, or decision to become friends, or whatever, it was Saturday and Hermione had decided to study outside, since the weather was nice and it would probably be turning nasty fairly soon. She had ended up sitting under the shade of the beech tree by the lake where she used to go with Ron and Harry. She hadn't really made the decision to study there consciously, and had wondered briefly if she had just wandered in that direction out of habit or because of subconscious sentimentality. Laying a blanket down on the grass, she had pulled her Potions book out of her bag and leaned her back against the trunk of the tree, her mind made up to stay out there and study until lunch. She had been reading and taking notes for only twenty minutes, though, when Pansy had appeared and asked if it would be okay if she joined her.

Not wanting to appear rude, Hermione had said yes, and had been very glad Pansy had brought a Charms book with her. Apparently she was going to study too? Hermione immediately returned to her note-taking, not wanting to encourage any type of conversation which would distract her from her studies, but had only been at it for another five minutes when Pansy spoke.

"So, I hear you're dating Ron Weasley. Is that true, or have PavLav got their facts mixed up?"

Hermione was somewhat taken aback at this abrupt and straightforward inquiry into her personal life, but was also confused. _Pavlav?_

"Sorry, who?"

Pansy had grinned at her. "PavLav. It's a little nickname I made up for Parvati and Lavender. They're so joined at the hip and are the queen gossipmongers of the school, so I figured I'd give them a moniker that referenced them together."

Despite herself, Hermione had chuckled. It wasn't the most creative, but it was funny because it was _true_. Feeling warmer toward Pansy, because she couldn't remember the last time she had thought something was funny (a week ago, maybe?), she decided to open up a bit.

"Yes, I'm dating Ron, so I guess PavLav _did_ get their facts straight, at least this time."

Pansy nodded. "That's been a long time coming, I suppose. The weasel - I mean, Weasley has been in love with you since fourth year, hasn't he?"

Hermione had blushed and stuttered, "Wh-what? I mean, I dunno, I guess, it would make sense, considering his reaction to me going to the Yule Ball with Viktor, but, we've never really talked about it-"

Pansy cut her off. "He has. It was _painfully_ obvious."

Hermione just looked down at her book, smiling to herself. "Maybe."

She began reading again, although now she wasn't really processing the text, and eventually decided to reciprocate.

"What about you? You and Malfoy have always been kind of an item, haven't you?"

Pansy laughed, throwing her head back. Hermione was surprised by the sound. She was used to a cruel cackle or a delighted squeal at her own expense. But this was a _real_ laugh. Clear, joyful, uninhibited.

"Me and Draco are definitely _not_ an item. Not anymore, at least. We used to be, starting fourth year and going through fifth, but it stopped during our sixth year. We're just friends. Ish."

"Ish?"

Pansy shrugged, but she looked troubled. "Draco became really withdrawn during sixth year, but we would still talk. And we kept up correspondence last year while I was at school and he was home. But…" She hesitated, glancing at Hermione, then pulled up some blades of grass and began twirling them between her fingers. "He stopped returning my letters over the summer. And he barely talks to me anymore."

She sounded so _sad_ and rejected, Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for her. And she also felt that the situation she was in was surprisingly similar. Ron becoming withdrawn over the summer, and since being back at school he'd only written her one letter…

"I know how you feel."

Pansy looked at her inquiringly, and Hermione couldn't really explain what happened next. She couldn't talk to Harry or Ginny about it, it would be weird to try and talk to Neville about it, and she wouldn't know how to start talking about it with Luna, but here was someone, finally. Someone she could talk to about Ron, who wouldn't feel awkward hearing about the intimacies of their relationship, and wouldn't feel conflicted because she wasn't friends with him. But she still _knew_ him, knew who he was, even if she had always viewed him in a disdainful manner. It wasn't like Sophie, who only knew what she had heard about him from various Professors or read in the _Daily Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly_.

So Hermione found herself pouring her heart out. She started off cautiously, but before she knew it she was explaining to Pansy how virtually all summer Ron had been irritable and easy to anger, unwilling to talk to her about his feelings or listen to hers. The only one-on-one interaction he seemed to want to have with her was on a physical level, and it just didn't feel _right_ to Hermione. She often felt like he couldn't have cared less who she was, that he was just glad to have a warm body to touch and to hold. Sometimes he would be sweet, and give her lights kisses and whisper that he was so glad she was there, but despite how much she wanted to, Hermione just didn't _believe_ him. And it was making her incredibly sad, frustrated, and scared.

Sad because she felt unwanted, frustrated because she had been trying _so hard_ and he just wasn't responding, and scared because was that going to be the rest of her life?

And Pansy had _listened_. Pansy had _sympathized_, and offered stories about her attempts to contact Malfoy over the summer and how they had failed. They had _bonded_. It had been strange. It had been unexpected. But most (and best) of all, it had been _wonderful_. Hermione hadn't even realized how many feelings she had been keeping pent up until she let them all out, and reveled in the fact that she felt lighter than she had in weeks.

And so their _real_ friendship had begun. Over the next two weeks they began meeting up in the library (it had been raining almost every day), sometimes studying but mostly talking, as quietly as they could so as not to attract the notice of Madam Pince. Hermione had been staying up until almost one in the morning in the Gryffindor common room every night to get her schoolwork done, but for once, she didn't mind. She was happy.

Ginny had noticed, of course, but fortunately she was a lot less hot-headed than her brothers (the younger ones, at least. The little Hermione had seen of Charlie and Bill told her they were rather level-headed). Ginny trusted her judgment, and one night at dinner told her that she would try and be nicer to Pansy from now on. It had made Hermione smile.

Perhaps one of the best things about their friendship so far was that (much to Hermione's surprise) Pansy had helped her with her and Neville's Head assignment. With a week to go until they turned in their proposals to McGonagall, the only things she and Neville had thought of were a Christmas Ball, a school wide chess tournament, a school wide duel (Neville's suggestion, which she personally did not feel would be accepted by the Professors, but they had little else so they put it in anyway), and a school wide snowball fight (she had thought the last was rather lame, but she had always had fun fighting with the Weasleys and Harry). She had been worrying to Pansy about it in the library when Pansy had caught her completely off-guard with a suggestion.

"What about a scavenger hunt?"

Hermione, who had been in mid-sentence, hadn't yet processed what Pansy had said.

"What?"

"A scavenger hunt. My Dad used to do them all the time for my and my Mum on our birthdays. He'd hide our gifts somewhere in the house or outside, and then he'd lay out all these riddles and clues to help us find them. It was a lot of fun." Pansy had smiled fondly and a little wistfully at the memory, then looked doubtfully at Hermione's blank expression.

"Just a suggestion…"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, it's _brilliant_." A dreamy look had come over her face, and she was running her fingers absent-mindedly through her hair. Pansy seemed rather pleased with herself, and a million ideas started running through Hermione's head.

Pansy had referenced something she had done as a child. What had Hermione done as a child? Lots of muggle things, but she could incorporate magic into them, or leave them as they were, it would be a great way to introduce the students who had been raised by wizards and witches to muggle traditions! Lock-ins at the local recreation center. Carnivals in the fall, around Halloween. Field days, at the end of the school year. Ice-skating with her parents every winter.

"Pansy, you are an absolute genuis. I've got to go tell Neville this, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Pansy looked a bit startled at her abrupt departure, but had smiled all the same at the compliment. Hermione had rushed to the Gryffindor common room then, and Neville was just as excited by her ideas and she was. They finished their proposals before curfew, and hurried to the Headmistress's office.

McGonagall had been rather surprised to see them, and was even more surprised by the fact that they had finished their assignment a week early, but she gave them one of her rare smiles and she and Neville had beamed at each other, flushed with pleasure.

Hermione snapped back to the present. Oh dear. She hadn't answered the question yet, had she?

"I've been well, really well."

Sophie smiled at her earnestness. "I'm so glad to hear it! Any particular reason for the change?"

Hermione returned the smile. "Yes, actually. A most unexpected reason, but I'm quite glad for it."

Sophie learned forward eagerly, and Hermione couldn't stop herself. Sophie was a nice person, after all, and she was only trying to do her job.

"I've…become friends. With Pansy Parkinson."

For the briefest of moments Hermione registered the shock in Sophie's eyes, but it vanished almost immediately and was replaced with her signature warmth.

"I'm so glad to hear it! Pansy is a lovely girl."

Hermione found herself briefly thinking that she could not ever recall hearing _anyone_ say that about Pansy, but pushed the thought out of her mind. She nodded. "She is."

"So, what about school? Still enjoying your Arithmancy classes?"

She wondered whether or not Sophie actually remembered that from their previous session, or whether she had simply put it in her notes and looked over them before their session. Probably the latter, but Hermione supposed she didn't blame her. She was seeing a lot of students, wasn't she?

"Very much so. Proffesor Vector gave Malfoy and I a term-long project we're supposed to be working on together, and it's been very interesting. The subject matter, and…other things."

She paused briefly, weighing whether or not to continue.

"What other things?"

"Well, Malfoy and I…we've never been…friendly, to put it lightly."

Sophie nodded, a slight frown appearing on her face as she seemed to be thinking about something. "How are things now? You two are the only ones in your year taking N.E.W.T. Arithmancy, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermione nodded. "You aren't. I thought it was going to be horribly awkward, but it hasn't so far. We've been very civil to each other, and I even let him borrow one of my books. Sort of as a peace offering, I guess."

But Hermione knew that was a lie.

Not a _complete_ lie, she _had_ given it to him in the hopes that it would officially clear the water between the two of them. But there was another reason, too. In fact, just fifteen minutes ago Malfoy had asked her about it.

They had met in the library to work on their project again, but after only an hour and a half Hermione had had to leave so she could get to her session on time. She hadn't brought up the book at all, figuring since he hadn't given it back he hadn't finished it yet. But as she was gathering up her books, telling him they could figure out when to meet up again after class on Monday, he had stopped her.

"Granger."

She looked down at him. He was still sitting at the table, and she was standing across from him, her hair falling out of her messy bun and into her eyes, and she had brushed at it rather distractedly.

"Yes?" She was worried she was going to be late. She hated being late.

He seemed to struggle to say something, although it was rather hard to tell, as he kept his face so cold and impassive most of the time. But she saw his jaw clenching. She resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently.

"Why'd you let me borrow your book?"

Well. Of all the things she had thought he was going to say, _that_ definitely had not been on her list.

"Oh. Um." She bit her lip nervously, then sighed.

"As a peace offering, Malfoy. An olive branch, if you will."

He had nodded, looking down at the table, his brows furrowed like he was thinking hard about something.

"And…"

He looked up at her. His face still so impassive, but the hint of a question just visible behind those steely gray eyes.

She smiled at him a little crookedly, then shrugged. She was surprised at how soft her voice was when she spoke.

"The way you were handling it, and looking at it, when I first gave it to you, like it was a treasure…it reminded me a bit of me."

He just stared at her, and when _he_ spoke, it was almost a croak.

"Oh."

She shrugged at him again, then turned to walk out of the library.

"See you on Monday, Malfoy."

"See you, Granger," he called back quietly.

Once again she had to pull herself back to the present. Sophie seemed to have realized something, and she was smiling again. Actually, it was more of a…smirk? But not a mean, sadistic smirk. A good-natured smirk. Still, it made her uneasy.

"Um, is everything okay?"

Sophie shook her head as if to clear it, and her warm smile returned. "Yes, of course! So tell me more about this project. What's it on?"

The rest of their session passed much as the last one, with Hermione mostly talking about school, although Pansy came up again when she told Sophie about the Head assignment she and Neville had been given. And, just like last time, the hour was over before she knew it.

Sophie stopped her as she headed out the door.

"Oh, Hermione! Just a reminder, the group session for the seventh years is next Saturday. I know it's the day of the Hogsmeade trip, but the session is fairly early in the morning, so you'll have the rest of the day to go down there. If you get a chance, try and remind people of that, will you? I don't think some of your peers are very happy about it. Particularly Parvati and Lavender. Apparently their star charts have told them they'll be meeting tall, dark, handsome men, and they're very eager to get down there. But, what can you do."

And with a last somewhat mischievous smile, she closed the door.

Hermione laughed quietly to herself. She really rather liked this woman.


	9. Second Group Session, and Hogsmeade

**Author's Note**: Dear me, it's been ages since I updated! Lame apologies, a thousand times over. I've been on vacation. However, I love all of you wonderful, amazing, magnificent people who reviewed, or added this story to your alert/favorites list! It makes me so, so happy. But enough, and on with the chapter!

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><p>When Hermione walked into Sophie's office on Saturday morning, Pansy was already there. She was sitting in one of the loveseats, filing her nails in an absent-minded way. She looked up when Hermione entered and patted the seat next to her. Wondering if this would end up causing a stir, Hermione hesitated for a moment before joining her.<p>

"This will be fun."

Hermione frowned, thinking. "What will? Going to Hogsmeade later?" She had invited Pansy to join her and Ginny, who had arranged to meet Ron and Harry at the Three Broomsticks for lunch. She had written to both Ron and Harry, explaining her and Pansy's newfound friendship, and to warn them that Pansy would be accompanying her. She had not heard back from either of them, but hoped that was only because they had been too busy to respond, as she had only written to them three days prior.

"Oh, well, that too. But I was talking about us sitting together. It will leave someone having to sit out of their comfort zone." She grinned at Hermione devilishly. "Let's watch."

Pansy would surely be right, although Hermione hoped it wouldn't be Neville, because then she would feel rather bad. Fortunately, right at that moment he came walking in…with Hannah Abbott. They took the other loveseat.

She turned to look at Pansy, her eyebrows rising up to her hairline in surprise. Neville and Hannah were chatting happily and seemed very comfortable, and now that Hermione thought about it, they had been leaving Herbology together almost all year…

Hannah was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way. She had long blonde hair that she often wore in a plait, and a kind, round face, much like Neville's. Her soft brown eyes were currently looking up at Neville adoringly as he spoke animatedly about something Hermione couldn't quite overhear. Hannah started laughing, leaning forward and covering her mouth with her hands, and Neville seemed very pleased with himself. He caught Hermione's eye and winked, then looked at Hannah with such a sweet expression that it almost made Hermione's heart skip a beat. She found herself wishing someone would look at her like that, and turned away wistfully. Ron never had, at least that she had seen.

"They make quite a cute couple," Pansy observed. Hermione only managed a nod in response.

Ernie and Susan filed in soon after, taking a spot on one of the couches. Malfoy and Zabini followed, neither speaking to the other, sitting down together on the other couch. Upon walking in and seeing the options they had left, Parvati and Lavender hastily took the two armchairs by the fireplace. Michael walked in alone and sat down with Ernie and Susan. They greeted him fairly cheerfully, as they had all been in the D.A. together. When Anthony Goldstein walked in last, he looked quite horrified when he realized the only spot left was on the couch next to Malfoy. Pansy was chuckling quietly to herself, and Hermione gave her a rather reproachful look. She stopped chuckling immediately. Hermione turned to watch Anthony as he approached the couch.

He looked rather angry and possibly slightly afraid. Malfoy noticed this, and Hermione saw that he seemed rather…upset by it. When Anthony sat next to him, Malfoy nodded at him and said something, but once again she couldn't hear. She was quite surprised by his civility, and so, it appeared, was Anthony. However, he returned the greeting, albeit a little unsurely, and the anger and fear vanished from his face.

When Hermione looked back at Malfoy, she was shocked to see that he was staring directly at _her_. He quickly looked away, and at that precise moment, Sophie walked in.

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><p>For today's group session, they were supposed to be talking about "more serious" things. Sophie wanted them to "open up" and "share their stories". It was supposed to help them "bond" and "heal". It was supposed to help them "come to grips" with what had happened and "move on".<p>

Well, eff that. Draco had already _moved_ _on_, and he didn't need to share his feelings to prove it.

However, he did have to admit that he was quite interested to hear everyone else's stories. He honestly didn't know very much about any of the seventh years outside of those in his own house, and he was strangely fascinated to hear what they would all say. Would his story be similar to any of theirs? He doubted it. He was the only former Death Eater in the room. Still, he couldn't help but wonder…

Longbottom spoke first, of course. Draco hadn't been at Hogwarts the previous year; in fact, he was the only pureblood of student-age given special permission _not_ to attend, by the Dark Lord himself. Therefore he wasn't so familiar with what had gone on at school. But he was hearing it now, straight from the kelpie's mouth. And he had to admit, he was rather impressed by Longbottom's nerve! Of course, the Carrows weren't much to contend with magically, but Snape had always been incredibly powerful and much feared by anyone who hadn't been in Slytherin. And of course, Longbottom had stood up to the Dark Lord himself, during the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco had to hand it to him. As ill-founded as he liked to pretend "Gryffindor bravery" was, Longbottom had a lot of it. And he was a bit…jealous? He didn't like feeling that way.

He glanced around the room to see how his "peers" were receiving Longbottom's story. _Every_ eye was riveted on him, looking at Longbottom with a mixture of admiration and awe. Even Blaise! Yes, Draco was certainly a little jealous of him.

After Longbottom finished speaking, there was thanks from Sophie to him for "sharing so honestly" and murmurs of admiration all-around. Sophie asked who wanted to share next, and there was an awkward silence. People looked around shiftily or stared resolutely at the floor. Either they didn't want to share their own feelings just as much as he didn't, or no one wanted to follow up Longbottom's story. Well, he could hardly blame them for that.

Then Pansy spoke.

"I'll share."

Every eye immediately turned to her, and Blaise raised his eyebrows slightly, conveying mild interest. Draco hadn't seen him this engaged the whole year, and wondered what was up. He looked back at Pansy, and was amazed to see her looking so nonchalant. But then again, Pansy never had much of a problem being in the spotlight.

And so she started speaking. Draco, of course, knew the whole story, so he only half-listened to her talk about her father's steady downward spiral, her fear for her own life, her jubilation at hearing of Voldemort's death, and how that day changed her entire life. He was fairly surprised at how open she was being, telling a room full of people her innermost thoughts and feelings. He noticed Granger grab her hand and give it a light, reassuring squeeze as her voice began to shake when she talked of her reunion with her father before he was taken to Azkaban. Looking around the room, he saw Patil and Brown sobbing quietly, and both Hufflepuff girls (whose names he didn't know) were wiping their eyes with the backs of their hands. In fact, Granger was the only girl with dry eyes in the room.

"I never knew that…about your mum…," Patil said quietly, after Pansy had finished speaking. "And watching your Dad…that must have been awful for you…"

Draco looked at Pansy. She seemed gratified by Patil's response, but shrugged with a sad little smile. "It was hard, but I learned how to detach myself. I dealt with it in my own way, mainly by being a bitch to everyone."

Brown giggled, a little maniacally, because she was still crying too. Everyone turned to give her a strange look, and a slight blush crept onto her cheeks.

"So-sorry," she hiccupped. "It's ju-just…you ki-kind of were. A bi-bitch, I mean."

Oddly enough, Pansy grinned at this statement. "Yes. And I'm sorry about that."

Draco stared, he couldn't help it. Pansy had just apologized, AND NOW ALL THE GIRLS WERE LAUGHING TOGETHER LIKE IT WAS SOME BIG JOKE. Pansy had treated them all absolutely horribly for _seven years_! Were they really going to forgive her that easily?

Would they forgive _him_ that easily, if he apologized?

He felt his chest start seizing up just at the thought.

These past few weeks had been hard for him. He'd always been fairly good at being alone, but it was finally starting to get to him, if only a little bit. He had figured that he would just concentrate on school, ace his N.E.W.T.s, get a job, and then start meeting people who didn't know about his past. He didn't need friends now, they'd just be a distraction, and besides, basically everyone at Hogwarts hated him. He wanted to show that he was different, but only by not being a jackass. He didn't need to _grovel_, or anything demeaning like that. Because he didn't need to be friends with any of these people. Chances were that even if he tried they wouldn't care. So, he had told himself not to even bother. Why waste his time?

But all these things with Pansy kept messing up his assumptions. Pansy hadn't ever been a Death Eater, but she'd been a right bitch and had wanted Potter to be handed over to the Dark Lord, if only to save her own skin. Yet here she was, best friends with _Granger_, of all people, and now all the other seventh year girls were laughing at the fact that she used to try and make their lives a living hell.

It was totally messing with him. Not to mention ruining his whole no-one-here-would-ever-truly-forgive-him theory.

Eff.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat at a table in the Three Broomsticks, marveling at how well Pansy was fitting in. Somehow the girl seemed to know just what to say to assuage any fears that Hermione's friends may have had about her.<p>

First, Pansy had won over Ginny. The three of them had enjoyed a lovely walk in the crisp October air after the seventh year group session, Pansy and Ginny getting along swimmingly as they gossiped about the various boys on the House Quidditch teams. Pansy was able to provide Ginny with previously unknown tidbits about the Slytherin boys, such as the gem that Vaisey once let people play exploding snap on his bum and he had to go down to the infirmary for a month so Madam Pomfrey could apply a special ointment. Pansy had related the tale most descriptively, and Ginny had to make them stop walking for a minute, she was laughing so hard. Before, Ginny had only given Hermione her blessing on her and Pansy's friendship by saying that she trusted Hermione's judgment. But as they made their way into the village, Ginny had whispered to Hermione "I see what you like about this girl."

Then, they had arrived at the Three Broomsticks. Ginny had positively squealed when she saw Harry, whose face had lit up with an expression of pure delight as he took her in his arms and spun her around. Hermione had approached Ron a bit more tentatively, but he had hugged her tightly all the same and given her a kiss on the cheek. She and Harry had embraced fiercely as well, and just _seeing_ her two best friends almost made tears well up in her eyes. She had blinked them back furiously and turned to Pansy, who had hung back a bit awkwardly during their spirited reunion.

"Ron, Harry, you both know Pansy."

The boys glanced at each other then, but Harry had moved forward to shake her hand anyway, smiling. "I know Hermione has been feeling lonely, and I'm glad you two have become friends."

Pansy smiled back graciously. "It's me who should be grateful. Without Hermione I'd be stuck hanging around Draco and Blaise all the time, and they've become quite the bores. Honestly, I've thought about transfiguring Draco into a ferret a few times, just because he'd be more entertaining that way!"

And that, quite simply, had done it. Ron had been staring at her with a bit of a sneer on his face, which changed to disbelief as she referred to Malfoy and Zabini as "bores", and by the mention of turning Malfoy into a ferret he had started cracking up. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulder, more to help keep him standing than anything, and addressed Pansy with a grin on his face.

"I've got to admit, Parkinson, I thought Hermione must have been mental when she wrote us that letter saying you'd be coming here, but you're alright."

And he had clapped her on the shoulder, like she was "one of the guys", which was rather bizarre, but Hermione supposed Ron couldn't have thought of what else to do, and Pansy didn't seem to mind.

So now they were all sitting at a table toward the back of the bar, and Neville had come over to say hi with Hannah in tow, and Luna had wandered over dreamily, like she'd walked in by accident, and Hermione was sure she couldn't think of a more unusual group to be talking and laughing together like they did this everyday. Well, actually, if Malfoy or Zabini had been there it would have been more unusual, and probably Michael Corner too. Even so, it filled her with a strange sense of happiness. She had been very worried that Ron and Harry would react to Pansy very negatively…well, more so Ron, but she couldn't have imagined it going any better.

Harry and Ginny were trying not to be overly affectionate in front of everyone, but no one missed them holding hands under the table or the long glances they gave each other when they thought no one was looking. Hermione was wondering vaguely if she would get any alone time with Ron, and was surprised to find that she wouldn't be very upset if she didn't, when he slipped his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear "let's go for a walk."

Her heart began to flutter nervously, although she couldn't say for sure why because she'd been alone with Ron hundreds of times before. She looked over at Pansy and saw she was stuck listening to Luna tell her about the summer she spent looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in Sweden with her father. Hermione noticed Pansy was struggling to remain polite as she told Luna that to believe in such a thing was ridiculous. She bit back a smirk and turned to Ron.

"Sure."

Their departure went unnoticed by the rest of the group, and she followed Ron out into the weak afternoon sun. She thought about grabbing his hand, but saw he had put them both in his jean pockets. Wilting a bit with disappointment, she trudged down the main road beside him in silence.

"I've been thinking a lot lately."

She turned to look up at him, a comment about that being unusual for him (meant to be gently teasing) rising to her lips, but she stopped herself when she saw his face. His expression was a mixture of seriousness and sadness, and her heart rate increased quickly. Was he finally ready to start talking about the war? About Fred, or Remus?

"I know I've been pretty reclusive lately. I don't really feel like myself anymore, you know?"

She nodded, unsure of what to say, of what he wanted to hear. He took a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair.

"I care about you a lot, Hermione. You're one of my best friends." He grabbed her hand, then, and his was so warm and rough, she could feel the calluses. He smiled down at her sheepishly.

"I'll always care about you, you know that, right?"

Still she was unable to say anything, just nod, although this time it was because she felt her throat closing up because she could already hear his next words-

"But, I think I want to be alone right now." He breathed out a big sigh.

She stopped walking.

"Alone?" It came out as a strangled cry.

He looked down at her warily.

"Yes. Just to like, try and figure some stuff out."

She could feel blood rushing to her face, and she felt like she might be sick. Ron was breaking up with her. RON WAS BREAKING UP WITH HER. _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod._

"Are you okay?" His tone was filled with genuine worry as he peered down at her, eyebrows scrunched together.

She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. She could hear herself talking though, and she distantly registered that her voice was about two octaves too high to sound normal.

"Okay? Yes, yes, I'm fine. I understand, Ronald. You want to be alone, that's fine, just fine. I'm going to go back to school now, though, would you please say goodbye to Harry for me, and tell Ginny and Pansy where I've gone? I've just realized I forgot to return a book to the library, you see, and it's a day overdue, and Madam Pince will be positively livid, you know, so I really must return it as soon as possible."

She felt her body turning around, away from Ron, and felt her feet moving across the cold hard ground back toward the school. It was amazing, really, her body's ability to act of its own accord like this, because her brain was definitely too jumbled right now to be sending out any readable signals.

She thought she heard Ron calling her name, but she might have been imagining it. She thought about turning around, to see if he was running after her, but the thought that he might not be made her feel sick again, so she kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other. _That's it_, she told herself calmly, _just keep walking. Everything will be fine if you just keep walking._

When she reached the end of the main road, she lost it.

She took one shuddering breath, then began to sob in earnest. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she sat down on a nearby boulder before she fell over. She had never felt an emotion like this before. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest. Not to mention she was angry! How could he break up with her? After all they had been through? After everything she had put up with that summer? How dare he!

_How dare he break up with me before I broke up with him_, a nagging little voice said in the back of her head. The thought made her stomach twist uncomfortably, but she stopped crying, at least. Which was good, because she could hear footsteps behind her. She did not lift up her head, but could tell by the scent of cherries that floated on the air toward her that it was Pansy. Pansy's cherry lip gloss was _very_ pungent.

"Hullo," she said, rather dully. Pansy slowly sat down beside her.

"Weasley told us what happened."

She nodded.

"Well, more like he came back in looking all crestfallen, and Ginny asked where you were, and he mumbled something incoherent and Potter whispered something to her and then she started screaming at him about why in the hell would he break up with you."

She chuckled despite herself. It sounded exactly like the sort of thing Ginny would do.

"You okay?"

She shrugged, still looking down at the ground. She didn't want Pansy to see that she had been crying. Pansy put her arm around her and shook her gently.

"It's okay to be upset, you know. I'd be upset if I were as brilliant as you and some numbskull like him had the audacity to break up with _me_."

Hermione smiled, then wiped her nose with her sleeve. She looked up at Pansy, and saw concern flood Pansy's eyes as she took in her own puffy red ones.

"If I'm honest with myself, I guess I'm more upset that he did it first. Because a part of me that I hadn't really acknowledged had been thinking about doing it."

Pansy nodded, urging her on.

"I'm upset, too, because I love him. But…the whole time we've been together, it's never been right. It's never been what I always imagined it would be like." She struggled to put her thoughts into words, to examine those thoughts she'd been having but refusing to accept as valid.

"I always imagined us…having this perfect relationship, because I thought we were _meant_ to be. But, the longer we were together, the less right it felt…and I love him, but I guess I'm really upset because I don't love him in _that way_. And it's hard to process. I had our whole lives planned out…" she trailed off with a sigh. Pansy let her sit there and ruminate for a minute, then she popped up, holding out her hand. Hermione looked up at her inquisitively.

"Come on, we're going to Honeydukes. This calls for a cauldron-full of their best chocolate, I think, followed by a binge which forces us into choco-comas for the rest of the weekend."

Hermione laughed, letting Pansy help her up, then followed her back down the road into the village.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I know, I know, you guys hate it, right? You were totally expecting Ron to blow up at Hermione for being friends with Pansy, and that cause their breakup, or something, right? Well, let me explain Ron's passiveness a bit.

First and foremost, I would like to emphasize that I believe the war changed EVERYONE very SIGNIFICANTLY. The main way this manifests itself, to me, is by having people be more forgiving. Plus, young people are more forgiving generally, I think.

But what about hot-headed, loyal-to-a-fault Ron, you ask in indignation?

I believe a major changing point for Ron started when he came back to Harry and Hermione in DH after walking out on them. Ron's pretty immature throughout the series in terms of owning up to his feelings etc, etc, but to me him coming back marks Ron growing up, a lot.

Harry, of course, hated Snape with the fire of a thousand suns, only to have his whole world turned upside down when he went through Snape's memories. These two life-changing moments humbled both of them, in my opinion. Not to mention, 1) it was more Hermione that had major beef with Pansy at school, not so much Harry and Ron, and 2) after you've gone through a WAR and seen your friends and classmates DIE, little shit like old school rivalries seem a bit trivial, don't you think? And I like to think that all of the characters I'm focusing on in this story are mature and smart enough to realize that. Even Ron. So, terribly sorry if you were expecting an infuriating/hilarious scene with Ron yelling at Hermione and bashing Pansy, but, that's not what I was aiming for. So, it is what it is. As always, (though which significantly less certainty than I'm used to), hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	10. Halloween Carnival

**Author's Note**: First, thank you all to everyone who reviewed/added this story to your favorite/alert list. It always makes my day to see that! Second, this chapter is going to be different from the previous ones in a few ways. One, it spans an entire week, as opposed to a day. I've put the dates at the beginning of each section to help. Two, it's a bit longer than the ones I've posted previously, but I doubt you guys will mind that! I didn't plan on it being this long, but then I decided to add a little scene in that I hadn't thought of before but felt it would help progress the story along more believingly. More Hermione/Draco interaction in this chapter, folks, which is good, because that means it should only increase from here!

* * *

><p><em>Sunday, October 26<em>

"So, Sophie, how are the therapy sessions going?"

"Fairly well, although there are still a few students who haven't opened up to me in the individual sessions, but that's not really what I'm worried about."

"Oh? And what is it that you _are_ worried about?"

"The group sessions, Headmistress. There have been improvements, which have amazed me, quite honestly, but I'm still worried about the students. Many of them are having trouble relating to one another, opening up to each other. There are a few who do it without any problem, of course, namely Neville and Pansy-"

Here she saw McGongall's nostrils flare, ever-so-slightly, and she knew it was because McGonagall disapproved of the first name basis with which she was on with the students, but she pressed on determinedly-

"-Neville and Pansy, but they need to _bond_ with each other, as soon as possible. I'm afraid achieving any sort of serious inter-house unity will be quite impossible, if they don't."

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but myself as well as the Heads of each House are working on that. We have finally finished reviewing the proposals Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom submitted for unity events, and we have chosen which ones to use. There will be one a month, and the first one is to be at the end of this week, on Halloween."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. What will it be?"

McGonagall's nostrils flared again, only for a moment. "A carnival."

* * *

><p><em>Monday, October 27<em>

Feeling very guilty, Hermione tickled the pear on the painting which concealed the entrance into the kitchens. But honestly, she was hungry, and she'd been avoiding Ginny since Saturday because she _really_ didn't want to talk about her and Ron's breakup. So she had skipped dinner and told herself she'd just get up really early in the morning for breakfast. But her stomach had been rumbling horribly since eight o'clock, and she knew there was no way she'd be able to sleep if she didn't get some food in her.

"Miss Granger!" exclaimed Kreacher when she walked in. She smiled down at the elf happily, noting that he still wore the locket Harry had given him around his neck, and he gave her a little bow.

"Hello, Kreacher! How are you?"

He grinned toothily up at her. "Kreacher is very well, thank you misses. What can Kreacher do for you?"

She patted her stomach. "I missed dinner and I was just wondering if there was anything left over for me to eat."

Kreacher nodded happily. "Of course! Kreacher will heat up some of the soup right now. Please, have a seat."

She looked around and saw that four little elves had brought over a table and two chairs for her to sit in. Her guilt worsened, and she sat down dejectedly. But she wondered why they had brought two chairs-

"Evening, Granger. I see you missed dinner as well."

She looked up and saw Malfoy walking over from the back of the room. He sat down across from her, and she sighed. She wasn't in the mood for company.

"Yes, I missed it." She volunteered no more information, and cursed herself for not bringing a book with her.

"Hmm. Well, _I_ missed because I was finishing that book you let me borrow. What's your excuse?"

There was no malice in his voice, but still she looked at him disbelievingly. "I don't see why that's any of your business, Malfoy."

He rose his eyebrows, then shrugged. "That's true." He looked off toward the stoves, where Kreacher was heating up the soup. Hermione sighed. She already felt bad enough for coming down to the kitchens, and now she felt bad about being short with _Malfoy_. What was the world coming to?

"I…was trying to avoid Ginny. Weasley," she added, when she realized he might not know her first name. He frowned, obviously thinking.

"Why? I thought you two were friends."

She sighed again. "We are, but…she's going to want to talk to me about something I don't want to talk about."

She had no idea why she was telling him this. She also wasn't 100% sure why she didn't want to talk to Ginny about it. Ginny would be understanding, and very much on her side, she was sure. But, she supposed that she also felt like Ginny would expect them to get back together. Ginny would say that Ron was just being an idiot and after he was alone for a while he'd realize that and come begging for her back. And…Hermione didn't really want to tell Ginny she was starting to think she didn't want that. They'd spent many nights at the Burrow talking about how fun it would be to be sisters-in-law, and she somehow felt like she would be letting Ginny down by telling her it didn't look like that was on the table anymore.

Malfoy nodded. "Fair enough."

Kreacher brought over their soup then, and they lapsed into silence but for the sound of their spoons scraping their bowls. It was beef stew, one of Hermione's favorites, and she gulped it down hungrily. After her first few spoonfuls, she realized Malfoy was watching her with an amused expression on his face.

"Merlin, Granger, hungry much?"

She felt her face redden, but she was too hungry to have time to be embarrassed. More importantly, she kind of wanted to get out of there. Malfoy was being…_nice_, and it was throwing her even more off than she already felt. She could deal with Malfoy being civil. She could not deal with him asking her questions about her personal life, have her _answer _those questions, and then have him accept her answer _like he understood_. And not make fun of her in any way, shape, or form. She'd just had her whole image of her future shot to hell. She couldn't deal with having her thoughts about Malfoy altered even more than they already had been, at least not right as she finished thanking Kreacher and the other house elves and rose to leave, he asked her another question.

"So, what didn't you want to talk about with the girl Weasley?"

She turned around slowly. He was leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head, and she hadn't seen him look so relaxed all year. She wondered what had prompted the change.

"What makes you think I'll talk to _you_ about it?"

He shrugged. "Isn't it supposed to be helpful, talking about things? That's what Sophie keeps telling us, anyway."

"Which you know so well from personal experience?" she asked sarcastically. Really, though, he _never_ volunteered any information about himself in the group sessions.

Amazingly, he grinned. Well, more like smirked, which was something she was used to seeing on his face. It…calmed her, oddly.

"Take a seat, Granger. Let's have our own little therapy session."

* * *

><p>He really did <em>not<em> just say that. Let's have our own little therapy session? First off, it sounded vaguely sexual, although he was sure Granger wouldn't catch the innuendo. Secondly, he was pretty sure he already knew what it was that was bothering her. He was just curious as to whether or not she would actually tell him. He watched her debating in her head, and thought back to the previous Saturday.

The reason why (he was pretty sure) he knew what she didn't want to talk about to the girl Weasley was because he had seen her and Pansy in Hogsmeade. He hadn't been planning on going into the village, mainly because he had no one to go with (which he didn't care about, not one little bit), but then decided he might like to peruse Tomes and Scrolls since he had finished Granger's book. He had been right on the outskirts of the village when he saw them, huddling on a rock. Granger's face was red and splotchy, and Pansy had her arm around her. They did not see him. He probably would not have heard what they were saying, and he didn't mostly, except while he stood there, a slight breeze blew for a moment and carried some of Pansy's words over to him. Specifically, the words were "…why in the hell he would break up with you." He was not familiar with the context in which they were said, of course, but judging by the fact that it was fairly obvious Granger had been crying and he was aware that she and Weasley were dating because of the _Blablabla_ section of the _Daily Prophet_, he assumed that Weasley had just broken up with her.

He had never really given them dating much thought, because honestly he hadn't cared. He remembered thinking, when he read that they were together, that it was a long time coming, and probably rolling his eyes a bit, but that was it. Hearing they that had broken up, though, was strange. Thinking about it, he had realized he assumed that they would end up together forever, just like Potter and the girl Weasley. It _still_ wouldn't have affected him much, though, if the breeze hadn't blown again, and carried one more part of their conversation to his ears. Granger's voice this time. "…I guess I'm really upset because I don't love him in _that way_."

_That_ really surprised him. He had always thought she was incredibly obvious about the fact that she liked Weasley, and Weasley was an idiot for not seeing it earlier than he had. And, quite honestly, what Granger was saying reminded him a bit of his and Pansy's relationship.

He and Pansy had started dating in his fourth year. He had been proud to date her, because she was pureblood and considered "hot" by most of the Slytherin boys. His father had approved. And she doted on him, almost pathetically so, but he liked the attention.

Then in their sixth year, he had ended it. He was so concentrated on his mission, he didn't have time for her anymore, he had said. Which was true. But he had kind of assumed that after the War was over and they had won, he and Pansy would get back together. The thought hadn't really excited him, he wasn't counting down the days until they could be together again, it was just sort of expected. That was going to be his life. Fight for the cause, marry Pansy, produce a male heir. And before sixth year, he had looked forward to such a lifestyle.

But as his mission started to wear on him, he started questioning his future. Was that really going to be the rest of his life? The thought terrified him briefly, then began to disgust him. He didn't want to fight for such a stupid cause, he didn't want to marry Pansy because he didn't love her, and he really, really didn't want their side to win. And thankfully, they hadn't. And he had survived. Which was good, he supposed, but coming out on that side of the War was possibly scarier than being in it. Now he had no idea what he was going to do with his life.

He freaked out a bit, privately and quietly over the summer, but had calmed down significantly when he realized what he wanted to do, for a job, anyway. He was going to be a curse-breaker. So he needed to blow his Arithmancy N.E.W.T. out of the water. But just in case he didn't (Merlin forbid), he was taking all those other classes as back-up. But what about other areas of his life? He had never thought about it before, but thinking he was going to end up with Pansy had instilled in him an odd sense of calm, and of superiority. All of his other Housemates were unsure of their futures, spending time worrying about this crush or that. But he had been above it all. Yet now…_now_ he was back on the same page as them. It had messed up his world a bit, when he realized he didn't love Pansy.

So he could sort of identify with Granger, if his assumptions were correct. He couldn't exactly explain why he was trying to talk to her, and on such a personal level, too. If he was completely honest with himself, as much as it pained him to admit, he was just…feeling lonely. And trying to talk to Pansy, when he had been ignoring her all year, would feel a bit too much like begging for attention. He hated begging.

He watched Granger mulling over his invitation, and he found himself wanting to know what she was thinking. What was going on in that bushy-haired head of hers? He knew enough about her to know that she wasn't afraid of him, or anyone, really. But he could not say whether she was disgusted by his offer, or pleased by it (unlikely), or only surprised and caught off-guard by it. To his satisfaction, she walked back over to the table and sat down slowly, a slight frown on her face. He resisted the urge to smirk and merely looked at her expectantly.

"Well…I don't know why I'm telling you this," she looked up at the ceiling, as if the answer might be there, "but…Ron broke up with me Saturday, and I really don't want to talk to Ginny about it."

He nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "Why not? You're not the one who broke up with him."

Granger sighed. "Yes, but, I think she'll expect us to get back together. But I…don't really want to. And I don't want to disappoint her, I suppose." She started fiddling with a strand of her hair, twirling it between her fingers absent-mindedly.

Draco barked out a laugh. Were all Gryffindors that bloody…selfless, all the time? Probably not. It was probably just Granger, because she was obviously mental. She glared at him.

"What's funny about that?"

He continued chuckling. "You don't want to talk to _your_ friend about _her_ brother breaking up with _you_ because you think your reaction will disappoint her. Do you _ever_ think about yourself?"

He got up then, because he really meant it as a rhetorical question. He saw a slight frown appear on her face as she contemplated his words. As he walked by her toward the door he acted on impulse and patted her on the shoulder once, twice.

"I'll see you in class, Granger."

He thought she might not reply, but as the door closed behind him he heard her call softly, "See you, Malfoy."

For some strange reason, even though he hadn't talked about anything in _his_ life, he felt better than he had in weeks. Perhaps Sophie and Pansy were on to something after all.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, October 29<em>

Hermione was chatting with Ginny at the end of dinner, reaching for a slice of blueberry crumble, when it happened.

Peeves, master of mischief that he was, came zooming into the Great Hall with handfuls of cream pie and dropped them onto the heads of six students.

There was a brief silence as everyone sat stunned, looking toward the teacher's table and waiting for Professor McGonagall to launch into a tirade against Peeves.

But she wasn't there.

So instead, before Hermione could even think what to do, before any of the other teachers intervened, a sixth year Gryffindor boy that she vaguely recognized as having tried to vie for the Resident Prankster position that became vacant after Fred and George left her fifth year stood up and yelled "FOOD FIGHT!"

Chaos reigned.

Unsure of what had possessed them, she watched as students from every year and every house began laughing and flinging food at their peers. Chocolate cake, treacle tart, and madeleines flew through the air.

Aghast, Hermione jumped up and ran down the Gryffindor table to where Neville sat. He was watching Dennis Creevey launch a huge dollop of whipped cream into the face of a nearby Hufflepuff.

"Neville!" she screamed. "We've got to do something!"

Neville turned to look at her, a curious expression on his face. Then he smiled at her, shrugged, grabbed an entire pie and threw it indiscriminately across the room. It hit Ernie Macmillan on the shoulder, who roared with laughter when he saw who had thrown it and fired a couple of strawberries back in their direction.

Hermione did not know what to do, so she looked helplessly toward the teacher's table. A few of the more strict Professors had gotten up and were attempting to stop the students, but most were still sitting down. A couple looked amused (notably Hagrid, who was chuckling into his pie) but some of them looked like they just didn't want to get hit themselves. The few of their colleagues who had ventured into the madness were now covered in dessert, because except for the few students who had been forcibly restrained my magic, most of them had ignored the Professor's thunderous instructions to "STOP AT ONCE".

In Professor McGonagall's inexplicable absence, she felt it was her duty as Head Girl to try and fill McGonagall's shoes. She peered through the flying bits of food, searching for the Prefects. The only one who had not joined in the activities was, oddly, Malfoy. She ran across the hall to the Slytherin table, being sure to stay close to the walls so as to avoid getting hit.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed when she reached him. "Malfoy, we've got to-"

And then Peeves dropped a cream pie onto the top of her head. It splattered all down her front, and she froze, her arms in the air, horrified by what had happened.

Malfoy took one look at her, his expression briefly one of shock, then started cracking up. Although he had not been participating in the fight, she could see some icing smeared across his forearm.

Hermione's immediate reaction was one of outrage, but she bit back a scathing remark as she watched him. He had his head thrown back and his mouth open wide, holding onto the table for support. She couldn't remember him laughing so hard _ever_, let alone with such genuine, innocent amusement. He looked like a kid. And it was such a beautiful thing to see. She realized that's why she thought Neville had looked strange earlier.

That deadened, haunted look that filled their eyes more than any other's in their year was gone, at least for the moment. She wanted to feel like that too.

So she _let go_ and started laughing too. If you can't beat them, join them, right? "You prat, Malfoy!" She dug her fingers into some cake and smashed it on top of his white-blonde head.

He stopped laughing out loud, but the laughter didn't leave his eyes. "You're going to pay for that, Granger!"

She squealed and darted out of the way as he threw a piece of blueberry crumble at her.

At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. She was perhaps one of the only people to notice as Professor McGonagall came running in, her gray hair falling out of her tight bun and Argus Filch hobbling behind her, but somehow, through all the noise and laughter and food, _every_ person noticed when a piece of treacle tart hit Professor McGonagall squarely in the chest.

The Hall immediately fell silent. Students were frozen in bizarre positions, having just been hit by a piece of dessert or with their hands full of food, mid-throw. Every eye darted back and forth between the Headmistress and the terrified third-year Ravenclaw boy who had accidentally hit her.

Professor McGonagall stood quite still, but Hermione saw her chest heaving as she breathed heavily with contained fury. No one moved a muscle except for Sophie, who came running up through the middle of the tables and whispered something hastily in Professor McGonagall's ear. Hermione watched McGonagall close her eyes briefly, as if in pain, then nod her head curtly. She walked up to the Hufflepuff boy, who appeared to be shaking in fear.

She pulled out her wand and flicked it, causing a pie to hover above the table. Everyone watched with bated breath, waiting for McGonagall's next move.

"If you're going to throw food at someone, Chambers, at least do it properly." Hermione saw the sides of McGonagall's lips twitch, as if to smile, and with a small SWISH of her wand she sent the pie flying right into the boy's face.

The Hall erupted with laughter. Taking it as their cue that the food fight was for whatever reason to be allowed to continue, students resumed throwing food at their friends. Professor McGonagall marched up to the teacher's table, pulled a plate full of madeleines toward herself, and began eating them as she started a nonchalant conversation with Professor Sprout.

Amazed and confused as she was to McGonagall's reaction, Hermione joined in with her peers. The fight lasted for approximately 10 minutes, and even Professor Flitwick was seen magicking food into the foray from the teacher's table. Slipping in the muck that had accumulated on the floor as she made her way back to the Gryffindor table, Hermione chuckled as she overheard Professor Trelawney telling someone that her Inner Eye would protect her from being hit, right before a handful of cake smacked into the back of her head.

When the fight was over, students began traipsing back to their Common Rooms, or racing each other to reach the showers. They were all discussing what had just happened, their eyes wide and bright with excitement, even the older students. Hermione recruited Neville and all of the Prefects to stay behind and clean up the mess, because she refused to allow the House Elves to do it.

And not one of them uttered a word of complaint.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, October 31<em>

"…and there's also going to be a pie-throwing stand. Students can pay a sickle and throw a cream pie at a Professor. It was inspired by the food fight the students had Wednesday," Professor Fortescue's portrait was saying.

The portrait of Dumbledore chuckled heartily. Phineas Nigellus sneered in his direction, then said in a cold, snide voice, "Absolute depravity. I would not have allowed students to act in such a manner in my day!"

Professor Snape bowed his head in concurrence. "I quite agree. I was very surprised by Minerva, letting the students behave so abhorrently."

Dumbledore only smiled serenely, and Dexter Fortescue continued. "Yes, well, apparently Professor McGonagall had quite a time trying to find any Professors to volunteer to sit in the pie-throwing booth, but eventually the magical therapist Ms. Sophie Oblenio obliged."

Dumbledore looked over at Snape. "That's a shame. She's rather liked by most of the students, from what I hear. It's too bad you aren't around for it, Severus. If you had participated, I'm sure that all the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students that lined up to throw pie at _you_ would have raised enough money to pay for impoverished student's books for a century."

* * *

><p>Pansy's eyes sparkled as she surveyed the spectacle before her. The Professors had set up the Halloween Carnival in the flat, open terrain between the Greenhouses and the Lake. They had been served a regular dinner instead of the usual feast, and now students were pouring onto the grounds from the Entrance Hall. She was waiting impatiently for Hermione at the bottom of the stone steps, bouncing on her heels in excitement. When Hermione finally appeared, she grabbed her hand and squealed "let's go!" as she practically skipped toward the festivities.<p>

There were many activities to choose from. A few were completely muggle-inspired and devoid of magic, like bobbing for apples, the huge bat piñata, the cake walk, the pie-throwing booth, and the glass-breaking booth, which was mainly surrounded by boys from various years trying to one-up each other. There were, however, a few things which required a magical influence: Professor Thorian, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was escorting small groups (which mainly consisted of first and second years) to the Shrieking Shack, where many of the Hogwarts ghosts had gone earlier so they could howl and moan in order to terrify them. Also, at the center of everything was a huge enchanted carousel. The magical creatures upon it were not the real thing, of course (which was good, because Pansy spotted a chimaera and a manticore among them), but they _were_ charmed to move on their own accord. A haunting melody echoed out over the grounds, and from where it came she could not tell, but she didn't really care. What she really wanted to do was go try that strange treat which Hermione had told her was called cotton candy (Pansy had a bit of a sweet tooth), since some of the house elves had set up booths between every couple of activities in which to pass out sweets.

"Let's go grab some munchies," she said to Hermione, leading the way over to one such booth.

"Oh, alright, but then let's go over to the pin Hagrid has set up, I'd like to talk to him, it's been ages since I saw him last."

Once Pansy had her treat she really couldn't have cared what they did, it was positively delicious! Bright and pink, it looked like a cloud and tasted almost sickeningly sweet. But Pansy liked it that way. She followed Hermione through the milieu, gazing around at the bright lights and colors and sounds of everyone's laughter and chatter. She was so enthralled because it reminded her of the birthday parties she used to have when her mother was still alive, and it made her feel like a kid again.

As they approached Hagrid's pin, she saw that he had caught a unicorn foal and a gaggle of delighted girls surrounded it. She walked up to it and decided she would try and feed it some of her cotton candy, wanting to give Hermione time alone with Hagrid to catch up. She wasn't paying attention to their conversation much until she heard her name.

"What are ye' doin' hangin' out with Parkinson, Hermione? She's right up there with Malfoy, in my book."

Pansy felt her insides clench up, but continued listening.

"Hagrid, really! Pansy and I are _friends_, I happen to like her very much, and Malfoy has changed quite a bit. They're here to start over and get a second chance, and we should be willing to give it to them!"

Pansy felt her stomach unclench slightly at Hermione's defense of her, but she still felt a little sick. She knew people felt that way about her, of course, but it was very hard to hear it nonetheless.

"Well, if there's anyone's judgment I trust it's yer's, but you gotta admit, it's hard to forget all the stunts they pulled in the past…"

Inexplicably, Pansy felt tears spring to her eyes, and she suddenly felt very bad for every horrible thing she had ever done or said to Hagrid. Hermione was obviously starting to rub off on her. She thought about going over to him and apologizing, but she didn't want them to know she had been eavesdropping, plus she didn't want them to see her cry. She quickly turned and walked blindly through the crowd, not sure of where she was going but suddenly feeling very put-out. Then she ran smack into someone's chest.

"Oh, so-sorry," she mumbled, looking down at the ground and attempting to side-step them.

"Pansy!" exclaimed a familiar voice. A voice she hadn't heard in weeks. "What's wrong?" And she looked up into the face of Draco. He was looking at her so concernedly, and all the hurt she felt at being virtually abandoned by him washed away and she fell into his arms, her own around his neck as she sobbed into his chest He patted her on the back awkwardly.

"Um…you-"

She cut him off. "Dra-Draco, I'm so-so-sorry, bu-but I just heard Ha-Hagrid talking to Herm-Hermione and I felt so-so bad," she wailed.

"Felt bad about what?" he inquired, still patting her on the back awkwardly.

"Everything!" she cried. "Every ba-bad thi-thing I ever di-did or said to him…"

"Yeah, well, we were idiots, but there's no point in crying over spilt pumpkin juice…"

She continued to bawl, but as the minutes passed she slowly regained her composure. The entire time Draco had let her cling to him, patting her back and ignoring the strange looks people no doubt gave them as they walked by. She pushed herself off of him and wiped her face with her sleeve, peering up at him through eyelashes which still had teardrops hanging off of them.

"Thanks," she said, her voice thick with phlegm. He gave her a small smile.

"Want to go grab some caramel apples? I saw some that had sprinkles on them. And that bat piñata is supposed to be filled with candy too…"

She grinned. Draco always had known just how to cheer her up.

* * *

><p>Hermione walked through the crowd a little worriedly. One minute Pansy had been feeding the unicorn foal her cotton candy while she talked to Hagrid, the next she had turned around and Pansy was nowhere to be found. She had thought that maybe Pansy had just wanted something else to eat, but she hadn't been at the closest treat booth, and Hermione was at a loss as to why she would have just disappeared. She was rounding a corner, thinking that maybe she should alert a Professor, when she saw her. She was standing beside Malfoy, biting into a candy apple covered in sprinkles and watching him throw a ball at a pyramid of butterbeer bottles. Heaving a sigh of relief, Hermione approached them.<p>

"Oh, Hermione! There you are. I was going to come look for you after Draco knocked one of these bottles down, but I was just realizing that I might have to wait all night." Pansy flashed Malfoy a devious grin and he threw her a glare as he wound up his arm, threw the ball, and missed it by about a foot and a half. Hermione bit back a laugh.

"Wow, Malfoy, I guess it's good you didn't want to be a Chaser."

He threw her a glare too, and she marveled at how their relationship had changed. It was not something either of them had said out loud or acknowledged to each other, but every interaction they had had since the beginning of the year seemed to chip away at the wall that was built between them. They had been little chips at first, since at first they only spoke in class or in the library working on their Arithmancy project. And if things had continued on that path, they would still most likely only be cordial. But the conversation they had in the kitchen at the beginning of the week had definitely put a hole in the wall, and the food fight a few days ago may have broken it down completely.

It was bizarre. But it…made her feel rather happy.

Hermione couldn't explain why she had opened up to Malfoy in the kitchens, but he had just seemed so approachable leaned back in his chair like that, his arms behind his head, almost _vulnerable_, and a tiny little voice in her head had told her he wouldn't make fun. He seemed to be reaching out to her, and she knew better than anyone what it was like to be alone and friendless with your only company the books you buried your nose in. That was why she had accepted Pansy. Why not accept Malfoy too? She'd be an awful hypocrite if she didn't. Besides, she had heard the plea in his question. He masked it well, attempting to convey an attitude of nonchalance, but why ask about _her _life, of all people, if he wasn't desperate for someone to talk to? She figured he'd chosen her because she was Head Girl and it was her duty to treat everyone fairly, or something like that.

"Why'd you run off?" she asked Pansy as Malfoy attempted another throw.

"Oh, I wanted some more candy and then ran into Draco," she replied, not looking at her. Hermione felt like she wasn't getting the whole story, mostly because just yesterday Pansy and Malfoy hadn't been speaking to each other, but she decided to ask for details later.

"Okay, well, let's do the cake walk next, that was always my second favorite when I was little."

"What was your first?" Malfoy asked, finally giving up on hitting a bottle.

She smiled. "The Carousel, of course."

Malfoy didn't participate in the cake walk. Pansy won and swore that she was going to have to diet for two months to cancel out the damage that had been done to her figure. Malfoy didn't go on the Carousel either, but he watched them, a little sadly. She rode on a Hippogriff, Pansy picked a Unicorn. They ran into Ginny and Luna on it as well; Ginny was riding on a dragon, Luna a Sphinx.

Overall it had been a lovely night, and somehow by the end of it she, Pansy, and Malfoy had made plans to watch the Quidditch game the next day together.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I anticipate people thinking the food fight was a bit much, or that McGonagall's reaction was very OOC. I'll just say that the ONLY reason she didn't flip her shit and send everyone to detention was because of Sophie. But I'm happy with it, so, hope you enjoyed it too!


	11. Conversations, & Session Three: Hermione

**Author's Note**: Oh dear, I know, this chapter is horribly short, and I haven't updated in ages! A thousand apologies. But I said the chapters would vary in length, and I wanted to keep both of these tidbits separate from what's coming in the next chapter. Not a lot happens (I'm trying to make this a story about regular, everyday life, which isn't always full of twists and turns and drama), but I hope you enjoy anyway!

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><p><em>November 5<em>

"Draco, we need to talk."

Draco looked up at her from the essay he was working on furiously in the library. Pansy had spent a quarter of an hour looking for him in here; he had found the most obscure table in the whole place.

For a moment it looked like he was going to say something nasty, like to sod off and to leave him alone to do his work, but then he saw the look on her face and his expression softened. He marked the page in the book he was using for reference, closed it, and gestured to the seat opposite him.

"What's up?"

Without preamble she responded, "I'm worried about Blaise."

Draco's eyebrows rose up and disappeared into his platinum blonde hairline. "Why should you be worried about him now?"

"He hasn't spoken to either of us all year. And it's effing November. Something is up."

Draco sighed. "It's hard for me to be concerned for him when he essentially stopped talking to _anyone_ two years ago."

"But this is different, you know it is. At least he was still _involved_ then, he participated in conversations."

"If you can count making snide remarks as participating in conversation…"

"I'm being serious! He hasn't spoken a _single_ word to me all year. Whenever I say 'hello' to him he just inclines his head. When I ask him a question, he either shrugs or pretends he didn't hear me and walks away. Aside from the fact that it's starting to freak me out a little, it's bloody annoying!"

Draco chuckled, then nodded his head in agreement. "You're right. I'll try to talk to him tonight. But don't expect anything to come of it. He's barely spoken to me all year either, remember?"

"Do you think I should be with you? Like, we're having an intervention or something? I could ask Hermione about it, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing…"

Draco shook his head. "No. It will be better if it's just me. Not that it's going to be good at all. Seriously Pansy, you know Blaise. If he doesn't want to talk, he's not going to talk."

"I know. But maybe it will affect him in some way if he knows we're worried about him. Maybe he thinks we don't care. We never tried talking to him about it before."

"Yeah, well, we were all a bit preoccupied with saving our own arses, weren't we? Don't think he can fault us for that. It's the Slytherin way."

Pansy looked off into the dark stacks of the library. "Yes," she replied distractedly. "Just do me a favor, okay? When you talk to him, let him know I care about him, okay? And it probably wouldn't hurt if you made it clear that you care about him as well."

Draco snorted, and Pansy shot him a glare. He held up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay."

"Promise!"

"I promise."

She flashed him a brilliant smile, hopped up, and planted a kiss on top of his head. "Thanks, Drakey-poo," she said playfully, referencing a pet name she had tried to use for him once (much to his disgust) during their courtship. She patted the top of his head and he swatted her arm, shaking his head at her back as she flounced out of the library.

He really wasn't looking forward to this conversation.

* * *

><p><em>November 11<em>

Hermione fidgeted in her chair, not sure of how to approach the subject of her and Ron's breakup. Sophie had just asked her if anything was new in her life, almost as if she knew it already, and Hermione found herself wondering if word had somehow leaked out and gotten in the paper. She never read the gossip section, so she had no idea. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Well, yes, actually. When I was at Hogsmeade, I met up with Ron and Harry at the Three Broomsticks. Ron asked if we could go on a walk, by ourselves, and I thought maybe he wanted to talk to me about the war, about losing his brother, but he…broke up with me."

She started chewing on her bottom lip and glanced at Sophie, and saw that she looked genuinely shocked. Apparently it hadn't made it into the papers. That or Sophie didn't read the gossip section either.

"Oh! Hermione, I'm so sorry to hear that. How are you taking it?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm…a bit relieved, to be honest. I was upset at first, of course, but really our relationship never was what I expected it to be."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well…I don't know if it was just us or if it was only because of the War, but things never felt right and…I'm kind of glad. I had our lives planned out perfectly, but the way things were between us over the summer did not bode well. I probably would have broken up with him eventually, but really it's better that he broke up with me. I'm much less mad about it than he would have been, which means there's a good chance our friendship will remain…intact."

Sophie nodded. "You're taking it very well, then! That's excellent. But if you want to talk about it anytime, day or night, I'm here for you, okay?"

Hermione smiled. "Thank you. I'd say I will, but I doubt I'll need to. Anytime I need to talk about anything I've got Pansy. I've talked about it with Ginny once, and even though she and I are good friends I felt a little uncomfortable, since he's her brother. So mostly I've talked to Pansy about it, anytime I've felt the need to. I'm…incredibly lucky to have her."

She said it in a way that suggested she was just realizing it, but was very happy about it all the same.

Sophie seemed pleased to hear her say it as well, but before she could comment Hermione spoke again.

"I may be wrong, but when you asked me if anything was new in my life, it seemed like you expected a certain answer. You looked surprised when I told you about Ron and I breaking up, though, so it wasn't that. Was there something else you were thinking I might mention?"

Sophie grinned at her. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Hermione? Alright, I admit it, I was thinking, or rather hoping, that you might mention your newfound friendship with Draco."

Hermione was taken aback. "I wouldn't say we're friends," she started hastily, then stopped and laughed when Sophie quirked her eyebrow. "Really, we aren't. We don't…talk about anything real. But we're definitely more than just civil acquaintances. Which is great, considering the Arithmancy project we're working on. Meeting up was fine before but there's a lot less tension in the air now. He's so different." She paused, thinking. "Well, he can still be a bit of a sarcastic jerk sometimes, but it's much less hostile. And all the arrogance is gone." She smiled, almost to herself, looking into the fireplace. "A year ago, I wouldn't have thought him capable of it."

"Capable of what?"

Hermione turned her head and looked at Sophie. "Growing up. But I guess war does that to people."

There was a brief silence.

"Yes," replied Sophie softly, sadly, "yes it does."


	12. Lock  in

**Author's Note**: Greetings, friends! Sorry there was such a wait inbetween this chapter and last. I hope both the length and the surprise make up for it! I know it's frustrating to want anupdate, but just know the reason it takes me so long sometimes is just because I'm not satisfied with what I have written. And I don't want to add a new chapter that I'm not happy with! I'm honestly not completely satisfied with the ending of this, but I know people were getting restless, so I decided to go ahead and post. If I edit it I'll let you know in a future author's note. And know that your patience with me, as well as every review, favorite add, and story alert add I get notified of, is utterly appreciated (even if in the review you're just hounding me for an update)!

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><p><em>Friday, November 21<em>

"Good evening all. Before tonight's Unity Event begins, I would like to go over some rules. The Heads of House will be on patrol to make sure there are no shenanigans of any kind going on throughout the night. I expect the Prefects as well as the Head Boy and Girl to assist the Heads of House if necessary. Second, as this is a lock-in there will be no "lights out" policy, meaning you may stay up as late as you wish. However, if your peers express a desire to go to sleep, I ask that you respect their wishes and continue your conversations _quietly_. Last, there are various muggle and wizarding games at your disposal. If others beside yourself desire to play a game, please take that opportunity to…reach out and interact with those you normally would not. Have a good night."

And with that, Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and marched out of the Great Hall.

Before Hermione could move Pansy grabbed her hand and pulled her into the crowd of students who had immediately burst into chatter. "I've never had a sleepover before! This is going to be so much fun!"

Hermione looked at her in bewilderment. "Seriously? You never had a sleepover when you were a kid?"

Pansy shook her head as they moved toward to back of the Great Hall. All the tables had been removed and instead replaced with hundreds of squishy gray sleeping bags. Students were clothed in their pajamas, clutching pillows and calling out to friends to meet them for a round of exploding snap or wizard's chess. This unity event had been Hermione's idea. He parents had forced her to go to a lock-in at their local rec center when Hermione was nine years old, convinced her insistence that she didn't want to go was only born out of a fear of staying away from home, which they very much wanted to break her of. Really, though, it was because she had no friends, something her parents hadn't realized because she was invited to the birthday parties of her classmates, but only because the children's parents made the guest list and made a point to invite all the children. She had spent the night huddling with her favorite stuffed animal, a penguin she had named Oliver, and trying not to be noticed, so that she wouldn't be teased. She was hoping with tonight's venture to erase that awful memory and replace it with a new one.

"No, when family visited they always stayed in separate rooms, even the kids, my cousins. And girls at school never wanted to visit over the summer…not that I wanted them to either." Pansy flashed her a knowing grin, but she was surprised by this revelation. "I stayed at Draco's house a few times, but we were never allowed to stay in the same room. We would have ignored that rule, of course, except his parents always placed anti-intruder and locking spells on my door. They claimed it was because they didn't want Draco taking advantage of me…but I couldn't open them myself, so they obviously didn't trust me either." Pansy smirked. "Not that I blame them."

Hermione felt heat rising up to her face as she thought involuntarily of Pansy and Draco in such a situation. She knew, of course, that Pansy and Draco had been together for quite a while, but she and Pansy never spoke of their relationship. Pansy had declared it was definitely over between them, that the two were just friends, and while Hermione had never seen anything between them to suggest otherwise, Pansy never talked about it in detail, and she had no idea how far they had progressed, sexually speaking. _She_ had divulged to Pansy that she and Viktor had kissed a few times ("yes, Pansy, with _tongue_, as you so tastefully put it"), had shared one rather involuntary kiss with Cormac McLaggen ("he cornered me at Slughorn's Christmas Party in sixth year, slobbered all over my face, and I only got away by pretending to become suddenly, violently ill, although I have to admit, it really didn't take much pretending on my part"), and had gone "quite far" with Ron, although "not _that_ far". Hermione, ever practical, wasn't a wait-till-marriage kind of girl (her mother had told her you needed to test drive a car before you bought it), but she definitely _was_ a wait-till-it's-right kind of girl, and with Ron, it was never quite right. Out of all her girl friends, the only one she knew to have "done the deed" was Parvati with a boy from Beauxbatons the night of the Yule Ball, and apparently she had regretted it most immensely. Of course, there was a chance Pansy had done it as well, but Hermione had never asked.

"Pansy, how far did you and Malfoy go? Sexually, I mean."

Pansy shrugged. "We had sex a few times fifth year." She said it so casually, like it didn't mean anything, and Hermione felt her stomach clenching up, although she couldn't really say why.

"Oh. How…how was it?" her voice sounded a little higher than usual, but Pansy didn't seem to notice. She was still dragging Hermione through the crowd of students toward the back of the room.

"It was okay. I imagine it helps if you and the person involved have some sort of passion for each other, which is definitely something Draco and I lacked. Of course, I don't really have anything to compare it to, so there's no way for me to tell at the moment. Aha, here everyone is!"

Hermione stood looking at a very strange assortment of people. Draco was there, standing beside a very sullen-looking Blaise Zabini, and talking with Anthony Goldstein and…Neville Longbottom. Neville had his arm nonchalantly around Hannah Abbott's waist, a gesture which screamed familiarity. Hannah was chatting happily with Parvati, Lavender, Ginny, and Luna, although Luna did not appear to be participating in the conversation. The latter smiled happily at Hermione as she and Pansy approached.

"Hermione," she said dreamily, "it's good to see you. I heard about yours and Ron's breakup. He's very funny sometimes, but I don't think you made a very good couple, so I think that's for the best."

As always Luna's blunt honestly was a bit jarring to hear, but even though the part about them not being a good couple felt a bit like a slap in the face, it inexplicably made Hermione smile. "I agree, Luna. I think it _is_ for the best." She turned to Pansy.

"What are all these people doing here?" she asked in a whisper.

"I invited them," Pansy whispered back. "Parvati, Lavender, Hannah and I all have Divination together. Hannah got Neville to come, I asked Ginny to join us, she asked to bring Luna, and I forced Draco and Blaise to join. Draco invited Anthony, I think."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but invited them for _what_?"

"To play a game." Pansy wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

"Why do I feel like I won't like this?" Hermione asked nervously. Pansy didn't answer, but turned to address their…friends, for lack of a better word.

"Hello! Thank you all for coming. Having never had a sleepover or been to a slumber party of any kind, I decided to take this opportunity to do it properly. So! Without further ado, I propose a game of truth and lies!"

Parvati and Lavender immediately burst into giggles. Hermione bit back a scathing remark (really, were they twelve?) and surveyed every else's reactions. Ginny had a wicked grin on her face, Luna was smiling serenely, Draco looked aghast, Zabini indifferent, and Anthony somewhere between amusement and fear. Hannah and Neville were whispering to each other and seemed not to have heard.

"So, everyone, let's get in a circle, and I'll explain the rules for those who don't know. The Questioner gets to ask one person of their choosing to tell a truth and a lie. If the Questioner can correctly guess which statement is a truth and which a lie, they get to ask the Questionee any personal question of their choosing. And the Questionee has to tell the truth! Then the Questionee gets to be the Quetsioner. Got it? Good. I'll start. I pick…Ginny! One truth, one lie. Go!"

Ginny's grin never faltered. "Okay. One: I hate peas. Two: Valentine's Day is my least favorite holiday."

Pansy "hmmed" and rubbed her chin mock-pensively. "Well-played, Weasley. You strike me as the type of girl that really _does_ hate Valentine's Day, but I have no idea about your eating habits. And maybe you're a real humbug and you hate Christmas more than Valentine's Day. Or _maybe_ your tough-girl persona is really all an act, and you're a secret romantic sap. But, I'm going to go with…Valentine's Day _is_ your least favorite holiday, and really you like peas. Or at least you don't mind them."

Ginny's grin only grew wider. "Correct! Hit me with it."

"Excellent. So, personal question: Is your boyfriend the Boy Wonder as sweet as he looks?"

Ginny smirked. "Sweeter. Neville, one truth and one lie!"

Neville laughed. "Okay. Um…one: My favorite meal is breakfast. Two: When I was five I broke my leg."

"Tough. You used to be so clumsy, so you breaking your leg isn't so hard to believe," (Neville feigned shock at her statement), "but you're always at breakfast early, woofing down eggs and kippers almost as bad as Ron, so…I'm going to say, you breaking your leg is a lie!"

He chuckled. "Yes, it was my arm that I broke. Do your worst."

"How long have you and Hannah _really_ been dating?"

Neville grinned sheepishly. "Since April."

Ginny exclaimed "aha!", Luna sighed "just like I said", Parvati and Lavender both gasped dramatically, and Pansy cried excitedly, "intrigue! The game is heating up already. I knew this would be fun. Alright, Neville, you're turn to be the Questioner!"

Neville looked over at Anthony. "You're up."

Anthony looked surprised by his choice, but Hermione knew better. Even with the Slytherins, Anthony was the odd one out, and Neville was trying to make him feel included.

"Oh, okay. Well…one: I love flying. Two: Potions is my least favorite subject.

"Hm. Well, you're not on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but that doesn't mean you don't love flying…but since you're a Ravenclaw, it's hard to believe you hate _any_ subject…"(Anthony chuckled appreciatively), "so I'm going to have to say you're lying about hating Potions."

Anthony shook his head, grinning. "Sorry, Neville, but you're wrong. Potions really is my least favorite subject. But I also hate flying, I'm dreadful at it…okay, my turn to be the Questioner, right? Okay, Parvati, your go."

Parvati looked surprised but pleased at his choice. "Me? Okay then. One: Divination is my favorite subject. Two: Trelawney is my favorite Professor."

Anthony nodded his head. "Well that's quite clever of you. From what it seems, both of those things should be true…but I'll just guess that the lie is Divination is your favorite subject."

She grinned at him, shaking her head. "Wrong, actually. Divination _is_ my favorite subject, and Professor Trelawney _would_ be my favorite, except Professor Flitwick passed me in Charms first year even though I should have failed…good thing too, I made it up to him, taking the N.E.W.T. class now…but anyway, Luna! Your turn."

Luna's perpetually widened eyes widened even further. She looked at Parvati with a strange expression on her face.

"You're going to try and make fun of me, aren't you?"

Parvati looked taken aback and a little hurt. "What? No!"

Luna just kept staring at her.

"Why would you think that, Luna?"

"Because that's the only reason you've ever addressed me. To make fun of me, and call me 'loony'."

Everyone was staring at the two girls, uncomfortable but fascinated by what was unfolding.

"Well, Luna, that was quite a while ago, wasn't it? I was rather stupid back then. I promise I'm not trying to make fun of you and…and I hope we can be friends, now," she finished rather lamely. But Luna's face brightened.

"Okay. I'd like that. I suppose I'm to make up a lie and a truth now, aren't I? Then, my favorite magazine is the Quibbler, and…" Luna looked around at the group, "…and Hermione is wearing a green nightgown."

Everyone looked at Hermione, and she looked down at what she was wearing. She had on red pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt.

"Sorry," said Luna, smiling, "I'm rather bad at lying. I suppose you can just go ahead and ask me a question."

Without warning, Zabini burst out laughing. Everyone's heads swiveled in his direction, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He was chuckling behind one hand and waved his other at Parvati, clearly saying "Ignore me, go on." His laughter sounded strange, almost like choking, which Hermione figured had to do with the fact that his vocal chords were rusty from lack of use. Pansy and Draco seemed to be having a silent conversation across the circle. Everyone looked confused by what had just happened, but decided not to press the issue and turned back to Parvati and Luna.

Parvati grinned nervously, still looking a bit bewildered by Zabini's outburst. "Okay. What boys have you had crushes on?"

Luna did not seem even slightly perturbed at the question. "No one, really. It's hard to have crushes when no one talks to you, so I never liked anyone before fourth year. And then I only really found people to be friends with. I thought maybe I should like Harry when he asked me to go to Slughorn's party with him, my fifth year, but I didn't like him like that, and I was very glad when he said he wanted to go just as friends."

Parvati looked disappointed at this answer. She obviously was looking for insight into what kind of boy a girl like Luna Lovegood would be interested in.

Luna looked around the group languorously. "It's my turn, isn't it? Well then, I pick Blaise Zabini."

Hermione bit back a gasp as everyone stiffened visibly. Pansy's face dropped and she shot a quick glance at Draco, who looked shocked but also a little impressed. Luna seemed oblivious to the stir her choice had caused and merely stared at Zabini unblinkingly, the hint of a smile at the edge of her lips. He stared back at her, almost challenging her. She either missed the challenge or was not afraid of it. But being friends with Luna Lovegood had taught Hermione Granger a few things, and one of them was that Luna was definitely not as absent-minded as she appeared to be.

The silence stretched for five seconds, then ten, then half a minute. As it continued, people began to stir awkwardly, but Luna and Zabini never broke eye contact. Anthony coughed, Lavender giggled nervously. Hannah leaned up and whispered something in Neville's ear. As the silence approached the one minute mark, right before Hermione thought she might explode if someone didn't say something soon, Zabini spoke.

His voice was deliberately slow and cracked, but they all caught every word.

"One: I hate lemons. Two: I love cake."

Hermione's eyes flitted back and forth between the two. Luna cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, then smiled slowly.

"They're both lies."

To Hermione's (and probably everyone's) amazement, Zabini smiled back. "Correct. May I ask how you ascertained that?"

"You blinked each time before you spoke," Luna replied enigmatically. "I get to ask you a personal question now, don't I?"

His smile faltered, but he nodded, and Hermione held her breath.

* * *

><p>Draco was holding his breath. He was astounded by the nerve of this girl who he had always thought to be batty. Although maybe her nuttiness was <em>why<em> she wasn't afraid. Besides, she didn't know Blaise like he did. She didn't know that his silence meant he was judging everyone around him, and that usually his judgements were correct. She didn't know he possessed the ability to stare down his nose at someone with such disdain and contempt that even he, as a Malfoy, had sometimes felt inferior. But Blaise…he seemed…different, with this girl, and Draco couldn't figure out why. And while his talk with Blaise the week before had gone better than he expected (after his speech outlining his and Pansy's worry for Blaise, Blaise had merely nodded and said he appreciated their concern, and he would explain everything when he was ready), he was still shocked that Blaise apparently considered _this _the proper time to open up.

"What are you keeping secret?"

This girl (Luna, that was her name, wasn't it?) was definitely crazy. This confirmed it. He turned to look at Blaise, who was regarding her with a strange expression.

"You don't have to answer, mate," he said softly, hoping no one else would hear. But of course they did, since they were all being so quiet, waiting to hear what Blaise would say. Blaise gave no indication that he had heard Draco, and Pansy spoke up.

"Yes, Blaise, we can give you a pass, don't worry about-"

"No," he said firmly, his eyes suddenly blazing. "No," quieter this time. "It's about time I owned up to it."

There was a collective sucking-in of breaths. Draco saw the hint of smile (or perhaps a smirk) tug the edges of Blaise's lips, and he knew it was because Blaise was amused at their anticipation of (finally) hearing his story.

* * *

><p>"You all know who my mother is, and if you don't, let's just say she changes husbands about as often as we changed Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers." (tentative laughter). "I was never close with any of my step-fathers, but I didn't mind. I was close with my mother, and her brother, my Uncle, was always very good to me. Honestly, I was always a bit relieved when her husbands would suddenly die. I didn't understand why she had to keep marrying. I asked her on more than one occasion why it couldn't just be us. She never gave me a straight answer."<p>

"My step-fathers always passed in different ways. One drowned, one had a heart attack, one had an allergic reaction when he was supposedly home alone, so no one could take him to Mungo's to get treatment. As I grew older I became aware of the suspicions that surrounded my mother, the rumors that were spread, but I ignored them. I knew her, they didn't, and they were just jealous of her beauty and her wealth. That's what I told myself anyway."

"Then, the summer before my fifth year, she married a foreign wizard who was sympathetic to Voldemort's cause. Now, before I had never been close with my step-fathers, but I had never disliked any of them either. But this man…this man I hated. He was cruel and violent and ignorant. He disgusted me, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why my mother had married him. He was wealthy, but we had money. What did she need his for?"

"She was married to him longer than she'd ever been married to any man. Two and a half years. He became quite prominent within Voldemort's ranks, although he was never in the inner circle, that I was aware of anyway. I think my mother liked the protection that he offered, since Voldemort was gaining such strength…"

"I went home for Christmas that year. A few days before I was to come back to Hogwarts, I overheard them arguing in the parlor. It sounded pretty serious, so I eavesdropped. Turns out he had been fooling around with some secretary of his, and was planning on leaving my mother. Well, she didn't like that very much. I walked in just as she said the curse. _Avada Kedavra_." (gasps, looks of horror)

"My mother didn't even apologize that I had seen. She just told me to floo my Uncle, because he needed to help her move the body. His death would be easy to hide, she said, since he was a known Death Eater. I felt…so stupid then, so blind. All the rumors that had ever been spread about my mother…at that moment, I knew they were true. And it ripped me apart."

"I did as she told. Then I left our house, and rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. I didn't go home for Easter break. I guess that was when she realized I was upset about what had happened, and she wrote me a letter asking for forgiveness. But I…couldn't give it to her. My own mother, I couldn't forgive her for what she had done, for her selfishness, for her…for her disregard for human life. It disgusted me, even worse than her last husband had. At least he had been upfront and honest about what he had been. But she tried to hide it and act innocent."

"When I finally went home for the summer, I confronted her about it. I told her it needed to stop. She refused, and kicked me out. I went to my Uncle's house, explained what happened. He turned me away, too. Apparently she'd been giving him forty percent of all the gold she had inherited from each of her husbands in exchange for him helping her to kill them. So I turned them in." (more gasps, more looks of horror, some tears)

"I paid the newspapers an awful lot of money to keep it quiet. So, that is the secret I've been keeping. The secret of my mother's lies, my ignorance, and my part in her imprisonment. That's why I came back to school to repeat seventh year. I said I liked being back at Hogwarts because it was better than being at home? Well, that's why."

* * *

><p>Hermione couldn't decide who she felt worse for, Blaise or Pansy. Probably Blaise, but only because he had had to turn his own mother in. She couldn't imagine getting to the point where you would be willing to turn your flesh and blood over to the police, no matter what they had done. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, she whispered that she needed a break to Pansy and stood up, glancing around to see if there was anyone she could go talk to. She spotted a shock of white-blonde hair disappearing into the crowd, and with a slight smile, she followed in his wake.<p>

When he finally stopped, she found Malfoy frowning at a table filled with muggle games. He picked up an old maroon box, then turned to her and, with a quirked eyebrow asked, "What is this rubbish?"

She grinned at him. "It's called scrabble. It's a muggle word game. Would you like to play?"

He looked at her like she had just sprouted a pair of tentacles.

"Come on," she said teasingly, "I promise not to beat you _too_ terribly."

He scoffed. "Granger, I don't care if you're the smartest bloody witch at this school, _I_ am _damn_ competitive, and if I consented to play this game, I promise _you_ would be the one who lost."

"_If_ you consented? You're not saying you're scared to go up against me, are you Malfoy?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, then whipped off the cover.

"Fine, Granger. I'll play you. What are the rules?"

* * *

><p>Two games later and they were starting the championship round. After she had pummeled him and won by 80 points the first time, he had declared they were playing for the best two out of three. The second go he beat her just <em>barely<em>, by three points and only because he had gotten a triple word score. And so a third game was necessary. They picked out their first seven letters and dove right in. Then, as he was spelling out 'moist', she blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

"Did you know?"

He looked at her. "Know what? That somehow this round turned into the double entendre sex round?"

"Wh-what?" she stuttered, confused and a little embarrassed. She looked down at the board. His four words so far, including his latest, were 'wood', 'tight', 'spit', and 'moist'. Hers were 'sweat', 'bite', 'tumble', and 'safety'.

"How is 'safety' a sex word?"

He smirked at her. "You know, if you like it a little more rough, sometimes you need a safety word."

She stared at him, shocked, and felt herself blushing. He threw back his head and laughed at her discomfort, but he could have no idea she had just pictured Pansy standing over him, decked in leather with a whip in her hand, with him screaming out "banana!" She shook her head vigorously to rid herself of the image.

"Um…" she mumbled ineloquently, wishing she was cognizant enough to make some scathing remark about how _his_ mind might be in the gutter but _hers_ was not, except now she couldn't truthfully say that, could she?

"I'm just joking, Granger. Did I know what?"

She closed her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths.

"Did you know…about Blaise?" she snapped her eyes open in order to be able to look at his and gauge his honesty.

His eyes darkened and he looked down at the board with a frown. "No, I didn't. And I feel like a complete arse. We used to be good friends, but then he just stopped talking in fifth year, and everyone assumed it was because he was so arrogant…I should have…known better."

Hermione looked at him sadly, feeling the urge to reach out and…what? Pat him on the shoulder? She shook her head, wondering if she should say something, but as the silence stretched on she became increasingly uncomfortable and instead decided to figure out what word she should put on the board next.

* * *

><p>Fourteen words later and she had beaten Malfoy by sixteen points. He declared the muggle game a waste of time and pouted as Hermione laughed delightedly. It was nearing midnight and all the students were finally starting to settle into their sleeping bags, although they were still talking animatedly to their neighbors. Hermione pushed herself off of the hard stone floor and raised her arms over her head, stretching.<p>

"I guess we should head back to the group. I'm surprised Pansy hasn't sent out a search party for us yet, we've been gone over an hour."

Malfoy picked himself off the floor as well and rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose there's any way we could just -"

But right at that moment Pansy appeared out of nowhere and practically jumped on top of them.

"WHERE HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN? COME ON, YOU'VE MISSED _SO_ MANY SECRETS ALREADY, AND PEOPLE ARE JUST _DYING_ TO SEE IF THEY CAN GET SOME OUT OF YOU!"

And without further ado she grabbed them both by the wrist and dragged them through the maze of sleeping bags back to their group, with Hermione hoping neither Pansy nor Ginny would be the one to challenge her, because they'd _definitely_ be able to tell when she was lying.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are love!<p> 


	13. Project & Session Three: Draco

**Author's Note**: Another short chapter, my apologies! But I didn't want to combine it with the next chapter, which will be a group session, and which will be coming shortly (next couple of days), I promise! As a side note, I think this happened a few chapters ago, but we've passed the 100 reviews mark, people! I COULDN'T BE MORE EXCITED! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to all the people who have been keeping up with this story despite my infrequent updates. You're all amazing.

* * *

><p>Draco hurried up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall beside Granger, both their faces flushed with pleasure. He could barely suppress his urge to grin like a maniac. It was about ten minutes past midnight, and they had just tested their design for their Arithmancy project under the light of the full moon, and it had <em>worked<em>. The afterimage of the illuminated design still burned his retinas as they quietly made their way across the marble floor.

"Do you know what this means, Malfoy? We're almost finished-"

He turned his head slightly as he heard something on the stairs, then threw out his hand to stop her from walking, and talking. Granger looked up at him with a confused expression on her face, until she heard the wheezing.

"Filch," she whispered, her face draining of all color.

He could almost see her thoughts about getting caught out of bed after curfew, with a boy, no less, and what it might mean for her Head Girl badge.

He assessed the situation. There was no way she could make a run for her dorm, as he knew the Gryffindor Common Room to be on the 7th floor. And he'd have to sprint all the way across the hallway to make it to the steps that lead into the dungeons. The broom closet to the left was their best bet.

"In here," he whispered, pulling her inside behind him.

They both held their breath as they listened to Filch make his way across the hall, mumbling the whole time to his cat. _What a nutter_, he thought with an eye roll.

"What's that, my sweet? Do you smell something behind the door?"

Draco felt Granger stiffen. The closet was quite small, and she was standing in front of him facing the door. Consequently, her bushy hair was all up in his face. He drew in a sharp breath as he realized that Mrs. Norris must be sniffing around outside the closet door, probably because Granger's hair smelled like pomegranate, and any second Filch was going to open the door and-

But right at that moment, a huge crash had sounded from above them. With a roar that sounded vaguely like "PEEVES!" they heard him hobble away, cursing the poltergeist.

Draco finally exhaled, his breath causing several of Granger's curls to bounce around, tickling his chin. _It's softer than I thought it would be_, he thought to himself.

"Wh-what?" he heard Granger ask, still obviously shaken from the close encounter with Filch, and he realized a split second too late he had said that out loud.

He felt heat rise to his face, and was glad that they were in darkness.

"Your hair," he replied, as nonchalantly as he could. "It's softer than I thought it would be."

"Oh." They stood awkwardly in the darkness for a few moments.

"…I think we can get out now, Granger."

"Right."

She stepped out cautiously into the hall, glancing around to make sure Filch really was gone, then turned to face him as he exited as well.

"I guess I'll…see you tomorrow, then."

He looked down into her face. She was looking at him oddly, her large brown eyes wide and confused. The smell of pomegranate lingered on the air and he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He stood there for a few moments, enjoying how lightheaded it made him feel, before he realized what he was doing. His eyes snapped open and he took a step back, surveying her warily. At some point her eyes had closed too, and she was swaying slightly. Whether she heard him move or merely _sensed_ his lack of proximity he didn't know, but she opened her eyes slowly and looked a little dazed.

"Goodnight," he said, a bit too harshly, and he marched across the Hall to the steps that would take him down into the dungeons.

"'Night, Malfoy," she called, a twinge of sadness to her voice. He shook his head as he walked. The full moon did strange things to a person.

* * *

><p>"So, I've decided that I want to try talking to you."<p>

Sophie smiled at him as he entered her office.

"Well, that's a change. May I ask what prompted it?"

Draco sat in the armchair opposite hers and chose his words carefully.

"I have been trying to be a better person and did not see how talking with you would help that. And while it still may not help me, _not_ talking to you definitely won't. So I thought I'd give it a go."

"So what would you like to talk about?"

He stared at her blankly. "Isn't that your job to decide?"

She laughed. "There are a number of topics I'd love to discuss with you and your peers, but I've been spending the past two months trying to earn your trust and respect. My main subject of focus would of course be your experiences during the war, but somehow I get the feeling you wouldn't like to talk about that yet."

He looked away from her hastily. "You're right," he said quietly. "I wouldn't like to talk about that."

Sophie let the silence stretch for a few seconds. "Why not? It's in the past."

He closed his eyes. "I did and saw horrible things, and I have no desire to relive them."

"Bottling up your feelings about what happened won't help, Draco. If you want to move forward you need to come to terms with everything you went through by facing it head on."

He shook his head, eyes still closed. "I'm not ready yet. Can we just talk about something else for now? If we don't change topics soon, I'll probably be put off this whole 'talking about it' thing for life."

* * *

><p>Sophie sighed, surveying Draco sadly. He had so many pent-up emotions, and she was quite afraid that one day he might snap. However, it wouldn't do to push him, so she decided to let it go. For now.<p>

"Okay then. How about school? What's happening in your Arithmancy class right now? I know it's your favorite."

His head snapped up and his expression changed from pained to excited immediately. It was really quite astonishing to see how just the mere mention of the subject made his eyes alight. It seemed to be one of the few things he was really passionate about.

"It's fantastic. Just the other night Granger and I had a major breakthrough on our project. We'll be finished in about a week I imagine, earlier than Professor Vector expected…"


	14. Third Group Session

Author's Note: I know. I know. It's been 3 years. I'm so, so the worst. But, as it says in my profile, no matter how long it takes me between updates, I do promise to never abandon a story. This one is no exception. To anyone who read before, I'm so unbelievably sorry for being such an ass and taking such an inexcusable amount of time to myself and away from fanfiction. If you decide to start reading again, you are a god/goddess among mere mortals. For anyone who's just coming across this, welcome! Hope you enjoy.

Hermione stared down at the paper she was holding in her trembling hands. She felt like she might have a panic attack.

"Hermione, you okay? Your hands are shaking!"

Hermione looked up from the letter and tried to smile at Ginny, but it probably ended up looking more like a grimace.

"Yes. Fi-fine. It's just…" she trailed off, not sure whether to elaborate or not.

Ginny flopped down into a chair beside her.

"Go on."

She sighed. "It's just, this is a letter from Harry, asking if I could meet up with him and Ron at the next Hogsmeade trip. And I'm over Ron, really, but the thought of seeing him again so soon after breaking up…makes me nervous. We haven't written to each other at all! And I so desperately want us to be friends again, but I'm worried it's going to be horribly awkward…"

Ginny reached out and patted her arm sympathetically.

"I'll be there, so that will make it better, won't it?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that will make it better. And I might ask Pansy to come along too. In fact…"she trailed off, looking into the fire and twirling one of her curls absent-mindedly. Then she stood so quickly it made Ginny jump.

"Ginny, that's brilliant! I've got to go talk to Neville, but I'll see you in the morning!"

O

Hannah Abbott was good at many things. Charms. Cooking. Listening. One thing she was not good at, however, was speaking in front of people. That was something she admired so much about Neville. Even though his words were simple, he was always so calm and sure of himself when he spoke in the group therapy sessions. By contrast, she was a wreck. Mumbling and stuttering the few times she was forced to speak, and never volunteering to do so. Until today.

It was Neville that made her do it, really. Well, not made her. He would never make her do anything she didn't want to. He just…encouraged her. Told her that her story about the war was very moving, and when she felt up to it, she should share it with everyone. And she had decided that today, November 26, would be that day.

So when Sophie had asked if anyone felt like opening up, she had raised her arm shakily. And now twelve pairs of eyes were staring at her, waiting for her to begin speaking. She swallowed and felt herself begin to perspire. Her knee itched. Neville squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled up at him. What would she do without him? She took a deep breath, then began speaking.

"As-as most of you know, my mother was killed during our sixth year. But…most people don't know how, or why, she was killed. The details of her death were never released, because they were considered too…gruesome." She paused, closing her eyes briefly to collect herself.

"My mother was pregnant when she was killed." She heard gasps of shock and outrage, but pressed on determinedly. "My father died when I was very young, but my mother had been seeing someone, a muggle named Derek, for almost a year. He-he was the one who found her. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad sent Obliviators to modify his memory. He doesn't remember her anymore. I saw him once, right afterward, when I was moving my stuff out of our flat. He looked at me like he recognized me, and opened his mouth, as if to greet me, but then he got a really confused look on his face and he walked away…

"My mother was pregnant with a little girl. My mother wanted to name her Madeline, and call her Maddie for short. She was…a metamorphmagus. Usually that's not something you know until you deliver, but the Healer saw her nose change shape in the womb…we were both really excited. I had never really liked being an only child, and I was going to get to be a big-big sister-"

Her voice cracked and she ducked her head, not wanting anyone to see the tears in her eyes. Even now it was painful to think about, but talking about it was almost unbearable. She forced herself to take a very deep breaths, and Neville rubbed her back to help calm her down. The silence in the room was so profound you could have heard a quill drop.

"Somehow the Death Eaters found out. Metamorphmagi are really rare, Tonks was one of the only ones in Britain. No one's entirely sure what happened, but Dumbledore thought they had approached my mother with some kind of offer, that in exchange for being able to raise Maddie they'd give her money or protection or something. Of course she refused, and they-and they-", she could feel the blood rushing to her head, her breathing was uneven and she felt she might faint, but she had to get it out, she had to tell them, "-_they tore Maddie out_."

A stunned silence followed her statement, and she turned her head into Neville's side, shaking with silent sobs. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, one minute, or five or ten, but suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Ernie. Tears were sliding down his cheeks, but he wasn't making a sound. Across the room she saw Susan, whom he had been sitting with. Tears were running down her face as well. Susan knew the truth, was the only person in the world besides Neville that she had ever talked about it with, but Ernie hadn't known. Even though they were best friends, she had never been able to tell him. Her mother had always liked Ernie

He opened his arms to her, and she stood and fell into them, and they held each other as they both cried, and cried, and cried.

O

"Sophie, before everyone leaves, do you mind if I make an announcement?"

Sophie smiled at Hermione. "Of course."

Hermione glanced over at Neville before addressing the group. It was an idea decided by them together, after all, and she wondered if he wanted to be the one to do it, but he just nodded at her encouragingly. She took a deep breath.

"As everyone knows, there's going to be a Hogsmeade trip the second weekend in November. Neville and I have been talking, and we thought it'd be really great if we could get all the seventh years together for a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks. I know some people will want to spend the day finding outfits for the Christmas Ball (she smiled in Parvati and Lavender's direction), but I - we think it would be nice for us all to hang out, outside of school. But not just the seventh years still in school. We were hoping to get as many seventh years as possible to meet up. I've been in contact with Harry and Ron, and Neville's sent owls to Seamus and Dean. Anthony and Michael, we were hoping you could contact your fellow Ravenclaws, Terry Boot and the like, and the same thing with the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. So people have a bit of time to shop before if they like, we were thinking noon would be a good time to meet."


	15. Hogsmeade Again

**Author's Note**: So, I know for the Dramoine lovers, this story so far is a bit of a disappointment. Really, as of right now, it's more of a friendship story, and it's barely focused on Hermione and Draco at all. I apologize for being misleading. This story will really and truly eventually focus on the relationship between Hermione and Draco, but I've always intended for a lot of it to be about friendships between the houses, as the summary states. And I want it to be as realistic as possible. So, obviously that's going to take a while, because it'd be kind of ridiculous if after 7 years of solid hate Hermione and Draco just suddenly fell into each other's arms.

* * *

><p>"There is no way I'm wearing this."<p>

Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror. Pansy had demanded that she, Ginny and Luna all go shopping for the ball together before meeting up with everyone at the Three Broomsticks. Ginny didn't actually need to go shopping, as she had received a package from Harry a few days prior containing a gorgeous new midnight blue dress. In his note, he had indicated that even though he wouldn't be there he wanted Ginny to have fun and take lots of pictures, because he knew she'd look stunning and he wanted to see. All the Gryffindor girls had sighed over what a thoughtful boyfriend he was, and Parvati had jokingly lamented leaving him for a Beauxbatons boy during the Yule Ball fourth year.

In any case, Ginny had been goaded into coming along because Pansy said her opinion would be needed. Hermione suspected it was really because Pansy wanted another strong voice in addition to her own to try to persuade Hermione to buy a dress she would have otherwise felt uncomfortable wearing. Like this one.

It was lovely, but she couldn't imagine stepping out of the dressing room in it, let alone into a crowded ballroom filled with hundreds of her peers (and professors!). She would have to be firm on this.

"Hermione, just let us see."

"No."

"Don't make me hex you!"

She snorted. "Like you could."

"Oooh, was that a challenge?!"

"Pansy, please-"

She was cut off by Pansy's delighted "aha!" as she ripped open the changing curtains. Why hadn't she thought to charm them closed?

"Oh, 'Mione," Ginny murmured. "You look _incredible_."

She blushed. "I look like-like a trollop!"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you are so sixteenth-century, Hermione. You look hot! You have boobs! You should show them off a bit! This dress isn't even that revealing, especially compared to mine!"

Well, that was certainly true. For herself, Pansy had chosen a black silk ensemble with a huge cutout around her back and abdomen and a huge slit up the left side that reached almost to her hips.. Hermione wasn't sure it fit within the dress code, not that one had been mentioned, but Pansy certainly pulled it off well enough.

"Confidence," Pansy had said, matter-of-fact. "That's all that's required to pull off any dress!"

Luna floated by, stopping to gaze at Hermione for a long second. "It ages you. In a good way."

"See!" Pansy exclaimed. "Even Luna approves. You know she'd tell you if she thought it looked skanky. It's decided. You're getting it."

Hermione sighed as she appraised herself again. The dress was a deep, dark red. It had long sleeves, which had the potential to make it conservative, except that it clung to every curve on her body as if it had been applied with a permanent sticking charm. There were mesh areas where it was see-through, most notably directly above her bosom, providing a gratuitous (in her opinion) view of her cleavage. If she was totally, completely honest with herself, it did make her feel _kind _of sexy. Which was certainly something she had never felt before. Like, ever.

"Are you guys sure I don't look ridiculous? Like a Roc trying to wear a Phoenix's feathers?"

"NO!" insisted Pansy and Ginny simultaneously. Luna shook her head dreamily.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled, suppressing a grin. "I'll buy it."

Pansy and Ginny high-fived in exultation. Luna cocked her head to the side as she continued to survey Hermione.

"I never realized you had such a nice figure, Hermione. I bet a lot of the boys will notice, too. Best to keep a bit of mistletoe with you. You can use it to sic some nargles on them if they try anything untoward."

* * *

><p>Hermione's heart began to pound the closer they came to the Three Broomsticks. She was flanked on either side by Pansy and Ginny, who had promised to remain with her until their initial greeting of the boys was over. This was especially thoughtful of Ginny, who wasn't even going to leave her to hug Harry until all the initial pleasantries and awkwardness had passed. She was lucky to have two such supportive friends. They had invited Luna to come along as well, and while Hermione appreciated her presence, she wasn't as close with Luna as she was the other two.<p>

The foursome stopped right outside the doors, and she took a deep breath. "Ready?" asked Pansy.

She nodded, once, twice.

"It's going to be great," Ginny said, with forced cheerfulness. She knew how much Hermione was dreading seeing Ron again, considering how she had immediately left him after their breakup, and they hadn't been in contact since.

They opened the door.

Warmth enveloped them. They moved inside quickly, stamping the snow off their boots, unfurling their scarves, and removing their jackets, scanning the room to find Harry and Ron. Luna saw them first.

"There they are," she said, pointing.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

They were sitting at a table in the corner near the back, just the two of them, with butterbeers in hand. It had been decided that they would meet a bit early, to allow them some catching up with Hermione and Ginny before the rest of the seventh years arrived. They hadn't noticed the girls had come in yet.

No one moved forward, they all waited for Hermione's reaction and instructions. She tried to be reflective, to ascertain how she felt. Sad? Wistful? Nervous?

None of those things, she realized. Ron and Harry were her two best friends in the entire world. She loved them more than anyone, including her parents (which made her kind of sad sometimes), and all she really wanted to do was give them both a big hug. Her face broke out into a huge smile, and she bounded across the room, throwing her arms around Harry first.

"It's so good to see you," she said earnestly, and he returned her hug just as fiercely as she did. She turned to Ron, who was regarding her warily. She wrapped her arms around him, holding tight, breathing in his familiar smell.

"And you," she said, as steadily and emphatically as she could, trying to convey through her hug that she wasn't upset with him at all. Her responded enthusiastically, lifting her up off the ground.

"'Mione, you wouldn't believe how much Harry and I have been missing you. We've been bogged down in so much paperwork, it's basically like being back at school again writing essays!"

"Except we don't have you to 'correct' them for us," said Harry with a grin.

"It's been a nightmare, honestly," continued Ron. "You'd think they'd just want us out there, tracking down the Death Eaters still on the loose, but no, we've got to file a report about the last one we captured, what was his name, where did we find him, what'd he receive as a present on his twelfth birthday, it's ridiculous!"

She laughed. "Well, that's bureaucracy for you."

The other girls finally joined them, Pansy having purchased a round of butterbeers for them all, and they said their hellos. Settling down at the table, Pansy began asking Harry about their latest captures, curious as to whether she knew any of the people involved. Luna and Hermione turned to Ron.

"How's Pigwidgeon doing, Ron?" Luna asked. "I always loved that little owl."

Ron grimaced. "He's still a right nuisance, thanks for reminding me, Luna. He was causing such a racket the other night, my mum threatened to throw us both out of the house.

"So you and Harry are still staying at the Burrow with your parents?" Hermione inquired curiously. Originally the boys had intended to stay there only for the summer, but when she had returned to school, they still hadn't made any solid plans to move out. Hermione suspected it was mostly for Molly's benefit.

"Yeah, but we're moving out after the holidays. Seamus and Dean have a nice little flat in London near the Leaky Cauldron, and me and Harry are thinking of getting a place in the same building."

Hermione was taken aback. "You aren't going to try and stay somewhere in a wizarding community? Or what about Grimmauld Place?"

"Grimmauld Place is still being searched by Aurors for clues to Death Eater whereabouts," Harry chimed in. "After Yaxley followed us there, it became a sort of…clubhouse for them." Hermione shuddered at the memory.

"But still, why not stay in a wizarding community? You could get a place in Hogsmeade! Or Diagon Alley."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then both shrugged. "We'll be close enough to Diagon Alley in the new place, it's just 'round the corner from the Leaky Cauldron," Harry answered.

"And we both want a little distance from the wizarding world right now," continued Ron, attempting to appear nonchalant. "We're in it all day at work, it'll be nice to get away from it a bit in the evenings."

"Well," said Ginny, "at least you'll be fairly close to George then, if you really are as close to Diagon Alley as you say!"

Ron and Harry exchanged looks again.

"Actually," Ron said, avoiding making eye contact with Ginny, "George is moving back in with Mum and Dad for a while. That's part of the reason Harry and I are moving out. You know, Harry's been staying in his and - his and Fred's old room, and George will be needing it again."

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence by the table, until Luna interrupted it.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," she began gently. "Him having so many memories of him and Fred in there. My father couldn't handle staying in his bedroom after my Mum passed, so we switched."

Ron cleared his throat. "Well, that's kind of why he's moving back in the first place. He hasn't been having a good time of it at their place in Diagon Alley. But maybe I'll tell him he can stay in my room. It's the only one free, since Percy's moved back in too, and can you imagine the two of them bunking together?" his eyes filled with amusement at the thought, and he surveyed the table hopefully. Hermione, Ginny and Harry all cracked up, although of course Luna and Pansy didn't really get the joke.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, and they were having a hard time finding enough free tables and chairs to add for the amount of people that kept showing up. First it was Neville and Hannah, followed by Seamus and Dean. Michael Corner trudged in alone, but Ernie and Susan came in soon after. Anthony showed up with Terry Boot, whom he had owled immediately after Hermione had made the announcement in their group session. Parvati, Lavender, Padma and Cho Chang had all arrived together, Parvati and Lavender apologizing for losing track of time as they shopped for the ball. All together they were making quite a racket, and Hermione was a bit surprised that Madam Rosmerta hadn't come over to chastise them yet.<p>

Neville had of course been thrilled to see all his old roommates, and they were talking together animatedly about the latest Quidditch news, Ginny and Pansy chiming in occasionally, although most of Pansy's commentary tended toward gossip-y items ("I heard Gwenog Jones had an affair with the Brazilian Minister of Magic"). Anthony, Ernie, Susan and Hannah were all being entertained by some story of Terry's about a disastrous attempt of his to pick up a muggle girl at a muggle bar. Parvati, Padma and Cho Chang happily chatted together about their holiday plans, and Michael was feigning interest in Lavender's detailed description of her dream interpretations for the last two weeks. Hermione and Luna were currently the odd ones out, although neither of them really minded. Hermione was feeling a little disappointed that Malfoy had decided not to come, when the bell above the door chimed and he walked in. With Blaise Zabini.

Hermione was shocked that Zabini had come. Although he had opened up to everyone during the lock-in, he hadn't really seemed to speak to anyone since except for Malfoy and Pansy. She waved them over, and they both approached warily.

Most conversations continued as they had been, Anthony calling out a greeting to them both. At the sound of their names, both Harry and Ron seemed to freeze, and they turned swiftly in their direction.

"Malfoy?" inquired Harry curiously. He put a hand on Ron's shoulder, Hermione expected in a gesture meant to calm him down, as his face was steadily turning more and more red.

Malfoy looked very unsure of himself. He turned toward Hermione, and looked at her imploringly. She got up from her chair and walked over as quickly as she could, without full-on sprinting. This could be potentially disastrous.

"Malfoy and Zabini are here by my invitation," Hermione said in a tone she hoped booked no argument.

"Malfoy! Zabini! Glad you could make it," called Neville cheerfully, winking at Hermione as he did so. She smiled at him briefly, grateful for his recommedation, which was sure to go a long way with both boys, although she was more worried about Ron than Harry. Ron's head whipped around to look at Neville, and he seemed confused by Neville's merry greeting of them.

Harry reached out his right hand, his left still keeping a firm grip on Ron's shoulder.

"Malfoy. Zabini."

They both shook hands with him, nodding their heads but saying nothing. Simultaneously, everyone turned expectantly toward Ron.

Hermione perceived that a battle seemed to be raging inside Ron. His body was stiff as a board, almost as if he had been petrified, but his face was flashing an array of emotions. Luna approached them all, and she smiled up at Zabini. He smiled back, and Hermione was struck by how handsome it made him. She couldn't recall ever seeing him smile before. Malfoy and Pansy made eye contact, smirking at each other. Ron turned toward her then, and his face clearly showed that he thought the world had gone mad.

"What. In the hell. Is going on."

Hermione laughed, catching Malfoy's eye, and he chuckled. Seemingly emboldened by these exchanges, Malfoy approached Ron with his hand outstretched.

"Weasley."

Ron looked down at Malfoy's hand. Then his eyes trailed up to look Malfoy directly in the face. They regarded each other for a few cool moments.

Then slowly Ron reached out his hand and shook Malfoy's. He didn't say anything, but it was good enough. Zabini walked over to Anthony, who had pulled up a stool for him, and Luna trailed behind. Pansy jumped up and gave Malfoy a quick hug.

"Just wait until you see the dress we got Hermione. She looks like a total minx in it."

Hermione groaned, blushing furiously. "Pansy, please."

* * *

><p>For anyone interested in what the dresses look like for all the girls, just copy and paste these into your browser, removing the bold <strong>DOTs <strong>and **SLASHes** and replacing them with actual dots and slashes, and getting rid of the spaces, of course. Please note that for Hermione's, the non-bolded slash is the actual word slash. Sorry for this being confusing.

Hermione:

www **DOT** slashdress **DOT** com **SLASH** prom-dress **SLASH** wholesale-unique-elie-saab-buy-2014-zuhair-murad-evening-dresses **DOT** html **SLASH** attachment **SLASH** dark-red-prom-dresses-ulzm#page

Pansy:

www **DOT** mydresshouse **DOT** com **SLASH** wp-content **SLASH** uploads **SLASH** 2014 **SLASH** 02 **SLASH** Black-Party-Dresses **DOT** jpg

Ginny:

www **DOT** promdressshop **DOT** com **SLASH** Homecoming-Dress-Alyce-5594 **DOT** aspx

Luna:

www **DOT** midnightglamour **DOT** com **SLASH** catalog **SLASH** item **SLASH** 1376595** SLASH** 6570930 **DOT** htm


	16. Christmas Ball

**Author's Note**: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, and followed this story so far! I'm glad people still like it. Two things: 1) this chapter finally features some Dramoine action, yay! and 2) it also changes POV a LOT, mostly between Hermione and Draco, although there's one or two Pansies in there. Hope it's not too confusing! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"I am SO EXCITED FOR THIS!"<p>

Hermione couldn't help but grin at Pansy's enthusiasm. The girl had spent the morning making chocolate-dipped strawberries for all the seventh year girls (plus Ginny and Luna), whom she had insisted get ready for the ball together inside the Prefects bathroom. The ball didn't start until 8:00, but everyone had met up at 5:00 to start preparations. The bathtub was huge, and Pansy had passed out swimsuits so they could all get in together, as if it was a pool, which really it could have been. Pansy, Ginny and Parvati, being the least modest of the group, had actually opted to _skinny dip_ for the bath. There were so many bubbles that it really didn't matter, but still. Hermione couldn't imagine being so free with her own body!

Now everyone was toweling off and drying their hair, and Hermione was getting out the same Sleekeazy's Hair Potion she had used for the Yule Ball. Lavender was giving Susan and Hannah hair-curling tips, and Parvati was fussing over Luna (Hermione had noticed that ever since the lock-in Parvati had been going out of her way to be extra nice to Luna). Pansy was humming to herself as she ran her wand over her dark locks, drying them section by section. Ginny came up behind them both, grinning mischievously.

"Look what arrived for me in the mail this morning."

And out of her bag she pulled not one, not two, but _four_ bottles of champagne. Pansy clapped delightedly, her eyes sparkling. Hermione gave her a reproving look. Ginny threw up her hands defensively.

"George sent them! I wrote him a letter early this week and mentioned we were all getting ready for the ball together. And before you even ask, Hermione, I have no idea how he got them through security, but do me a favor and just relax and have at least a half-glass, okay?"

Pansy nodded emphatically. "Yes, just a half-glass! That's almost nothing! What on earth is a half-glass going to do? Besides, it will go well with my strawberries! They're a great complement, strawberries and champagne."

Hermione relented (they were celebrating, weren't they?), and half-glasses were passed out to all. Pansy raised her glass in the air. "I propose a toast! Just a few months ago I never would have dreamed that one day I'd be _willingly_ getting ready for a Christmas Ball with all you darlings. Not to mention that I'd consider my best friend among the group to be a bushy-haired know-it-all from Gryffindor." Here she paused, and smiled affectionately at Hermione. "But I've got to say, I couldn't be happier with how things turned out. To unexpected friendships!"

The girls all laughed (minus Luna, who just smiled radiantly), echoed her sentiments, and clinked glasses. Hermione felt a warm rush of fondness for the pretty Slytherin, and marveled at how quickly Pansy had become one of her closest and most trusted confidants.

* * *

><p>The girls all descended the steps into the Entrance Hall as a unit. Among the older years there were very few people who had actually asked someone to be there date to the ball; most were just going as friends. Hannah and Neville were an exception, of course, but so were Michael and Lavender. He had asked her to accompany him just two days before.<p>

Susan spotted Ernie as soon as they arrived, and the two quickly peeled off into the Great Hall, where the ball was being held. It was just a few minutes after 8:00, and the sounds of the band could be heard from outside. It sounded like the party was already in full swing. Pansy had promised to meet Malfoy and Zabini before going in. Ginny and Luna continued on, but Hermione decided to wait with her. Pansy bobbed on the balls of her feet impatiently, craning her neck to peer into the Great Hall, but Hermione was content to wait a while. She felt pleasantly warm and fuzzy from the champagne (unbeknownst to her, Ginny and Pansy had taken turns refilling her glass behind her back, and she'd had the equivalent of two full glasses). An added bonus was that she didn't feel nearly as self-conscious in her dress as she had expected herself to. She swayed on the spot in time to the music, until someone came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned.

* * *

><p>Draco was surprised to find himself actually looking forward to the ball. The Yule Ball in his fourth year had been such a disaster. Crabbe and Goyle had gotten drunk and puked on his shoes halfway through the night. He had had to help them back to the Common Room so they wouldn't get in trouble, and was so sweaty and disgruntled after the effort it took him that he didn't feel much up to dancing afterward. He had spent the rest of the ball sitting sullenly at a table sipping pumpkin juice while Pansy whined about what a lousy date he had turned out to be.<p>

The truth was, he was actually quite a good dancer. His mother had taught him from a young age, in happier times, and once he got older had even hired a private tutor to teach him more advanced moves. He couldn't imagine who would dance with him besides Pansy (that Patil girl in Gryffindor was quite a looker, though, perhaps he'd feel confident enough after showing off his moves a bit to ask her), and he was pondering just that as he walked down the last of the steps into the Entrance Hall with Blaise when he saw her.

She and Pansy were standing to the left of the doors of the Great Hall, near the bottom of the steps. Pansy was wearing a rather revealing black dress, and while he certainly appreciated the effect, he wasn't at all moved to rekindle any sort of romance between them. Granger was beside her, swaying from side to side, and with the few glimpses he caught of her face, he saw that her eyes were closed. There was only one word for how she looked: stunning.

He, along with the rest of the school, had been taken aback in fourth year when at the Yule Ball Granger had shown everyone that she was more than just a bushy-haired bookworm. He would never have admitted it at the time, but with his blood prejudices now gone, he could concede that that night, she had looked very pretty. But that night was four years ago.

Tonight, she was wearing a dark red dress that accentuated every single curve on her body. He hadn't even realized Granger _had_ curves, but he certainly did now. Tonight, her usually wild mane had been tamed into silky straight locks that framed her pretty, expressive, heart-shaped face. Tonight, her normally light pink lips had been painted a red to match her dress, and the effect was shudder-inducing, in a good way. Tonight, he was struck with the realization that Hermione Granger was a _woman_.

Overwhelmed, he had stopped dead in his tracks at the bottom of the steps. Blaise stopped with him, looking at him curiously, and followed his gaze to Granger's bottom. He snickered.

"Not too shabby. I'd give it an eight out of ten."

"Shut up," Draco murmured darkly. "She'd curse your tongue off if she heard you say something so objectifying toward _any_ female. I hate to imagine what she'd do if she knew it was directed at herself."

Blaise smirked but didn't press it. They continued forward, and Draco reached out to tap Granger on the shoulder once, twice.

* * *

><p>Malfoy and Zabini were standing there. She smiled at them both, then began giggling at the absurdity of the situation. She was about to go to a ball with three Slytherins! Never in a million years would she have guessed such a thing.<p>

Pansy whipped around at the sound, screeched "FINALLY!", and promptly dragged them all inside.

* * *

><p>Granger continued giggling as they passed through the doors. Both him and Zabini gave her inquiring looks, and Pansy stood on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear "she's a little drunk." His eyebrows shot up, almost unable to believe it, but as he watched Granger continue to giggle to herself, he couldn't imagine what else would make her act so…girly. He chuckled, but decided to refrain from commenting.<p>

Once they were inside the Great Hall, some of the excitement Draco had been feeling vanished. People seemed to be staring in their direction quite a bit as Pansy led them deeper into the throng. Perhaps he had misjudged the acceptance that had been creeping up on him ever since the lock-in, that had taken off with full force after the meeting at the Three Broomsticks. He wasn't under any presumptions that people had forgiven him, of course, or that any of them would become friends, but he had thought it was possible they were willing, more than willing, to tolerate his presence, and that he'd be able to enjoy the evening with the only two friends he had, Pansy and Blaise. But clearly he'd been wrong. Clearly all these people were surprised he had had the audacity to come to the ball, and perhaps he should just give up on the evening now before it had the chance to get worse.

Then he realized that people weren't staring at all of them, they were staring at one person, and one person only. Granger.

Of course.

He relaxed again, and took the opportunity to stare at her more himself.

* * *

><p>Hermione was having a grand time already, and she hadn't even been asked to dance yet! Of course, they'd not even been at the ball five minutes, but it wouldn't have bothered her anyway. All around were her classmates having a good time, at an event that was her and Neville's idea! Many people were already on the dance floor. The first and second years hovered around the edges of the room, separated by gender and too scared to approach one another, but most of the upper classmen were paired off on the floor or sitting in mixed groups at tables, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. Neville and Hannah, Michael and Lavender, Ernie and Susan, Parvati and Anthony and Pansy and Malfoy were already dancing! So far she couldn't spot Ginny or Luna. She looked up at Zabini, whom she had been left with when Malfoy had abruptly asked Pansy to dance. His dark eyes were scanning the crowd.<p>

"Looking for someone?" she asked pointedly.

His eyes shifted to hers, only for a moment. "No," he replied quickly, without elaborating, but his eyes did not stop searching. Until Ginny and Luna appeared beside them.

"Hi," said Ginny a little awkwardly, glancing in his direction.

"Good evening," he said formally, then looked at Luna. "Good evening, Luna. You look very lovely."

Hermione was a little surprised by his even tone and straightforward delivery, although she supposed a person as good-looking as he was never really had trouble in the romance department.

"Thank you," she replied, revealing no hint of embarrassment at the compliment, as Hermione might have done. "Would you like to ask me to dance?"

He smiled, as he often did around Luna. "I would. Luna, may I have this dance?" He offered her his arm, and neither of them looked back as they strolled toward the floor. Both she and Ginny watched them go, and Ginny shook her head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears.

"What a weird couple, huh?"

"Tell me about it," said Pansy, who had reappeared with Malfoy in tow.

Ginny suddenly looked fierce. "I swear to Merlin, if he does anything to hurt her-"

"He won't," Malfoy stated firmly. "Trust me."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him disbelievingly.

"Blaise has never had a problem going for what he wants, especially with women. But in the past, it's always been one thing in particular he's wanted, if you catch my drift."

Ginny hmphed, crossing her arms.

"Not once has he ever revealed anything to personal to those girls. It was Lovegood who got him to open up at that lock-in. Something's different, with her. If anything, I'd be more worried about him."

* * *

><p>The party was starting to wind down a bit. There was still half an hour left, and most people were still there, except the three lower years, who all had 11:00 p.m. curfews. Hermione was taking a breather, watching in amusement as Pansy was twirled around the floor by Neville. For all his improvements, he was still a rather terrible dancer, and she and Ginny had both been wincing at their sore feet after their two dances with him.<p>

She was surprised but delighted by the variety of dance partners everyone had had. Ginny had danced with Neville, Ernie, two sixth year Ravenclaw boys Hermione didn't know, and had even consented to one dance with her ex Michael, the only dance he had with someone besides Lavender. Pansy had danced with Malfoy numerous times, but also Ernie, Anthony, a sixth year Slytherin named Julian, and now Neville. Malfoy, in addition to Pansy, had asked Parvati Patil, and while they seemed friendly enough, it was obvious even to her that it had been more than a bit awkward (not because of his dance skills, though. She had noted early on in the evening that Malfoy seemed to be a rather gifted dancer). Since then, he had asked no one except Pansy. Not even her, by which she felt strangely disappointed.

Not that she hadn't had her fair share of dances. In fact, she'd been asked by more people than any of them. In addition to Neville, she'd danced with Ernie and Anthony, but also five other sixth years she'd barely known existed prior to this evening. There was Benjamin and Lyon, from Gryffindor, Thomas and Jordan, from Ravenclaw, and Samuel from Hufflepuff. All five of them she had only danced with once, as they had all showered her with compliments that she had no idea how to take, having nothing to do with her intelligence and all about her appearance. It was something she was wholly unused to, and she really didn't know what to make of it. Despite that, they certainly made her more confident, to the point that she had almost completely overcome her doubts about her dress choice, even without the warming effect from the champagne, which had worn off a while ago.

The band finished the fast-paced song and Pansy separated from Neville as quickly as she could. Her face scrunched up in pain, she wobbled her way toward Malfoy, who was refilling his glass at the refreshment station. Thinking Pansy wanted to dance with him again, Hermione was surprised when after a brief conversation, Pansy was left alone sipping her beverage while Malfoy was making his way slowly toward her.

The band's singer clapped his hands. "Okay, ladies and gents. This is going to be our last song of the evening, and we're making it a slow one for all you lovers out there." He winked suggestively, and the band started up a slow ballad.

* * *

><p>Draco sipped his butterbeer as he watched Pansy's feet being trod upon multiple times by Longbottom. All in all, tonight had been a success, and he felt a way he hadn't felt in a long time: content. Of course, his dance with Patil hadn't gone very well, as they quickly discovered they really had nothing to say to each other, but he figured that was probably for the best anyway. The only thing he could get her to talk about with him for any period of time was Divination, and he had immediately regretted that discovery. She had been polite enough, and certainly was beautiful, but he'd been more than happy to leave her be when the dance had ended.<p>

His eyes scanned the room. Blaise and Lovegood were still at a small table in a back corner, absorbed in conversation as they had been for the past two hours. They'd spent almost the entire evening in each other's company, save for the one dance where Longbottom had twirled Lovegood around the floor. Blaise had watched sullenly from the edge of the dance floor, and immediately engrossed Lovegood back in conversation as soon as the dance was done. He could be a little possessive, Blaise. But so far, Lovegood seemed just as interested in him as he was in her, so that was good. For now.

He sighed, and his eyes came to rest upon Granger. She'd been _very_ popular that evening. She'd just finished a dance with some Ravenclaw boy, having waved off his entreaties for another by claiming she was too tired. She was now sitting alone at a table, and was smiling as she watched Pansy and Longbottom twirl around. Perhaps he'd go sit with her. He drained the rest of his butterbeer, and was looking for a place to set the empty bottle down when Pansy came up to him.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she began, and he could tell by her tone and the use of his full name that he wasn't going to like whatever she said, "you have been staring at Hermione half the evening. If you don't ask her to dance for this last song, I'll go over there and ask her for you myself."

He stared at her, and briefly considered trying to act indignant at such an accusation, but he could tell from the hard look in her eye that even if he tried to protest, she would somehow manage to force them together. It would be much more embarrassing if that happened. Pansy could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, in the sense that she made a fuss until she got her way.

He took a deep breath, did not trust himself to say anything lest he reveal too much, and simply handed her his empty bottle and began walking toward Granger. He mulled over how to ask her as he approached, and decided keeping it casual would be best. He stretched out his hand toward her.

"How 'bout it, Granger? It's the last song, we might as well."

She looked up, and it suddenly occurred to him that she had just told someone she was too tired to dance, and perhaps she might decline. That would be completely mortifying.

But then her face broke out into a smile, and she accepted his hand, rising to her feet. She must be wearing heels, because she was only a few inches shorter than he was.

"Sure, Malfoy, I'd love to."

He returned the smile, a little smugly. Clearly she'd been lying to that Ravenclaw boy.

* * *

><p>Her heartbeat had accelerated slightly as soon as Malfoy had asked her to dance. She was a little surprised, as it was a slow song, but also rather pleased. He led her out onto the floor, and holding her left hand out to the side, he placed his right hand on her lower back, and pulled her toward him slightly. They began moving in slow circles, and she tried to ignore their proximity, but it was a little intoxicating, like the champagne she had had earlier. Malfoy looked very attractive in his simple all-black dress robes. His eyes, which she'd never had much cause to notice before, were such a strange blue to be almost gray. His shoulders, where <em>her<em> right hand was resting, were broad and defined from the years he spent playing Seeker. He was very pale, but not in a sickly way. His facial features were defined, with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose, reminiscent of Greek statues. Not that he looked particularly Greek otherwise, but his overall appearance made him very…easy on the eyes. She quickly looked away from him, out onto the sea of other dancing couples.

* * *

><p>Pansy watched Hermione and Draco dance with great interest. He had always been a good dancer, but he and Hermione moved extraordinarily well together. He lead her across the floor with ease, and she followed him without hesitation. Their hips seemed to be in perfect sync, and neither of them appeared cognizant of this fact. Save for where their hands were laying, their bodies weren't touching, but there were mere inches between them. If Draco angled his hips, Hermione's matched them immediately. It was enchanting to watch.<p>

* * *

><p>"You look-" he began, and then faltered. She turned back to him and looked up into his face inquisitively. He cleared his throat.<p>

"You clean up well, Granger."

She smiled. His compliment, while nowhere near as effusive as any of the others she had received this evening, was the only one that did not make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, it had a pleasant warming sensation, although it made her stomach feel a little strange.

"Thanks," she returned softly, "you don't look bad yourself."

They finished the dance in silence, albeit not an uncomfortable one, and as soon as it was over he removed his hands from hers. She hadn't noticed them much during the song, but now they suddenly felt chilled, as if she had been wearing gloves and just removed them.

* * *

><p>"Hurry up, you two!" Pansy cawed at them eagerly. "Ernie's just told me, after party in the Hufflepuff Common Room!"<p> 


	17. Afterparty

Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who's favorited and put this on your story alert! Sorry there was a big gap between this update and the last, but honestly, this was probably a more accurate representation of how long it will be between updates for me in the future. I've had this story loosely outlined, but something happened in this chapter that I wasn't intending, but I rather like it and am excited about all the fun scenes I'll be able to add to this story now that I've done it. Happy reading!

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><p>Hermione looked around disapprovingly.<p>

"I want it stated for the record that I do _not _condone this."

Pansy grinned.

"And so you stated it! Have a shot." She held out a small glass containing a dubious dark brown liquid. Hermione shook her head.

"You were able to persuade me into that champagne earlier, but Pansy, I will not be talked into _this_ debauchery."

Pansy looked at her for a long moment, and something about her steely gaze seemed to make Pansy understand that this time, she would remain firm. Pansy shrugged.

"Suit yourself!" And she knocked it back like it was nothing more than pumpkin juice.

"Merlin, Pansy, you're a bit of a lush, aren't you?"

Malfoy had joined them. Hermione noted with both surprise and satisfaction that he was not holding a drink.

"Where's Blaise?" Pansy inquired, ignoring Malfoy's remark and looking around. "He'll be able to keep up with me, if neither of you are partaking."

Malfoy grimaced. "He walked Lovegood back to the Ravenclaw dorm, then said he was going to call it a night."

Pansy made a whiny sound in her throat. "That is unacceptable! And Ginny said she wanted to call it a night too. What a lousy after party this is turning into."

Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically as she surveyed the scene behind them.

She wouldn't have guessed it, not ever having been one much for loud parties, but the Hufflepuff Common Room was certainly an excellent location for having one. Ravenclaw was out of the question, since it would be such a bother having everyone answer questions all night to get in and out, and Slytherin was too gloomy, of course. Gryffindor might have worked, but Ernie had insisted Hufflepuff would be better "because of acoustics". He was right. Something about the layout of the room combined with its cozy furnishings helped to absorb sound better than in the Gryffindor Common Room. When standing outside you could hardly hear anything at all, whereas almost every party in Gryffindor (generally always after successful Quidditch matches) was busted by midnight.

Someone had brought out a radio, which was currently blasting the latest Weird Sisters rock song. The room was fairly packed; Hermione would guess there were somewhere between 50 to 60 students in the room at the moment, all from the upper years. All the seventh years were present, except Zabini, and Neville and Hannah, who had snuck up to the girl's dormitories a while ago. Everyone had a drink of some sort (excepting her and Malfoy, that she could see), although most of it was just butterbeer, which she didn't object to. Ernie and Michael had joined together in insistence that only the seventh years be allowed access to "the good stuff", meaning whatever dark brown liquid Pansy had just imbibed. The smell alone had made Hermione shudder. Technically they were all of age, so she couldn't get _too_ mad (at least that was what Ernie had said to her as he and Michael, who had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, had clinked glasses and sloshed half of whatever was in them all over themselves).

"You know, I don't think it's a good thing that everyone is getting sloshed," she began, a bit of an edge to her voice. "What if everyone is using drinking as a coping mechanism? For what happened during the war? What if they start becoming dependent on it and -"

Pansy looked at Hermione, slightly exasperated. "Well, that's an interesting thought, but I'm pretty sure students have been experimenting with drinking since FOREVER. You need to lighten up a bit, we're just having some fun! Don't you think we deserve some fun?"

Hermione sighed. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was not the healthiest expression of "fun" for her classmates, but Ernie and Michael seemed to be doing a decent job of keeping the hard liquor away from anyone who was underage. She threw up her hands, admitting defeat.

"Fine, fine. But Pansy, I don't think I'm up for this, I'm sorry. I don't want to spoil your fun, and I think that's what I'll end up doing if I stay. It was a lovely night so far, and I want to end it on a high note. So, go have a good time, and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Pansy looked crestfallen. Hermione felt a momentary pang of guilt, but honestly, she really wasn't in the mood for a raucous party. All she had been able to think about since they had arrived was how much she wished Harry and Ron were there, because it reminded her so much of the parties in the Gryffindor Common Room, and how wrong it was that Michael had been the one to procure the beverages, that it should have been Fred and George, like it always was, but that, of course, was now impossible. She really just wanted to go back to her bed and fall asleep thinking of the ball, and all the dances she'd had, and how wonderful they all were, and how for the first time since she'd been back at Hogwarts she'd almost gotten through an entire day without wishing, at some point, that Harry or Ron were there.

"Hermione, I'm sorry I said that about you needing to lighten up, but please -"

Hermione smiled. "Pansy, I wasn't offended. Probably you're right, but I just - I'm just not in the mood for a party right now," she finished, a bit sadly.

Pansy studied her thoughtfully.

"Okay, okay, I get -"

"PANSY!" Parvati shrieked from across the room. "Pansy, come here! Anthony wants to hear what you were telling me earlier about Celestina Warbeck, but I've forgotten the bit about her divorce -"

Hermione waved Pansy on. "You'll have a great time."

Pansy jumped forward and gave her a quick but tight hug and pecked her on the cheek. Hermione was a bit taken aback, but touched, and felt slightly better.

"Draco, you should walk Hermione back to her dorm. To make sure she's safe."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll be perfectly fine-"

"You're right, Pansy."

Hermione turned to him, mildly affronted. "What?! I can take care of myself, Malfoy-"

But he was grinning at her slyly, and winked. She felt herself blush, and turned away from him quickly.

"Yes, Granger here was instrumental in defeating Voldemort, but we mustn't let her roam school hallways at night. Who knows what creatures are lurking in the corners, but surely she would be unable to defend herself from them."

Pansy shook her head and turned quickly on her heel, waving her fingers over her head at them as she walked away. "Goodnight, you two."

* * *

><p>"You really don't have to walk me back to my dorm, Malfoy."<p>

He shrugged, hands in the pockets of his dress robes. "I don't mind."

They continued down the dark hallway, the heels of their dress shoes both clacking loudly against the stone floor.

"So, are you going home for the holidays?" she asked. She was genuinely curious about Malfoy's plans for the break. Over the past couple of weeks, when she hadn't been talking about the ball, Pansy had been gabbing nonstop about how her father was taking them to Greece for Christmas. Hermione was excited for her, and a bit jealous, having never been to Greece, but she was also looking forward to her own holiday plans. She was spending the week leading up to Christmas at home with her parents. She had hoped to see them more over the summer, but it had been incredibly busy, so she had promised to be with them for Christmas. She was hanging around a few extra days after that, but by New Year's Eve at the latest she was going to the Burrow and staying until school resumed.

He shook his head, and his eyes darkened. "No, I'm staying here."

Hermione was surprised. "But doesn't your mother want you home?"

He shrugged. "My mother isn't at home."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "Where is she, then?"

Malfoy said nothing, staring straight ahead into the darkness, but his pace increased slightly.

"Malfoy?"

Still no response. She reached out and touched his arm.

"Malfoy, what's wrong?"

He glanced down at where her hand lay, and the moonlight from a window they passed temporarily lit up his face. She was startled to see there were tears in his eyes.

"Malfoy, _please_. Tell me what's happened."

He finally stopped walking. She noticed his breathing was shallower. He crossed his arms, and regarded her warily. Her mind raced, trying to think of what she could do to get him to open up to her.

"Do you want to know the real reason I didn't want to stay at the party?"

He looked confused at the abrupt change of subject. She took a deep breath, and looked out the window at the moonlit grounds. She could see the vague outline of Hagrid's hut.

"It's because I missed Harry and Ron. I'm not sure what you did in the other houses, but anytime after Gryffindor won a Quidditch match, there'd be a huge party in the common room. I never would have been at those parties if it weren't for Harry and Ron. I probably wouldn't have had any friends at all if it weren't for Harry and Ron." She laughed hollowly, biting back a sob. "I've had a really tough time so far this year without them, although Ginny's wonderful, and Pansy's - Pansy's saved me, basically. And I had a fantastic time at the ball tonight, really I did, but I couldn't bear the thought of going to a party like that without them."

She turned back to him. "I know it's probably not going to be a fair exchange, me telling you something as trivial as that to try and get you to tell me about your mum, but, you're the only person I've admitted that too, so maybe I can be the first for you, too." She smiled at him weakly. He stared at her, his dark eyes stormy, and he was silent so long she thought maybe she should drop it, that she had been trying her luck-

"My mother has been very depressed ever since…everything. I didn't correspond with her at all at the beginning of the school year, but I decided last month to write her a letter once a week, just to check in. She hasn't replied to a single one. She barely got out of bed all summer, and I know I would have heard if something serious had happened, but I was…worried. So, I wrote a letter to my Aunt Andromeda, whom I've never even met. I explained the situation, and what I thought needed to be done, and she agreed to help. So last week she went over to the manor and forced my mother to check in to St. Mungo's. She'll be there until Spring, at least."

Hermione was shocked. Malfoy said this all in such a detached way, it was utterly heartbreaking, but she felt it was worse that none of them had even _noticed _something so serious was going on.

"Malfoy, _I'm so sorry_. Why didn't you say something? You've never been anything but mildly sarcastic and blasé about most things anytime we've hung out! We could have helped you! I feel so awful, I didn't even _notice_, what the hell is wrong with me? Thinking I've got problems when your poor mother has no support system, can't even cope-" she broke off, sucking in her breath and instructing herself to calm down, because it would be absolutely ridiculous if _she_ started crying.

He stared at her in disbelief. "How do you do it?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him confusedly. "Do what?"

"Be such a good person all the time. Don't you find it exhausting?"

She threw back her head and laughed, unable to stop herself, and the tension was instantly diffused. "Only when I'm around you, Malfoy," she teased.

He shook his head in bewilderment. "And why are you so nice to _me_, of all people? I don't deserve it."

Her laughter faded at his hard tone. "Why would you think that?"

He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. "I'm...not a good person. Not like you. I've done...horrible things."

She sucked in her breath. Was he about to talk about-about things he'd done as a Death Eater? She wanted to ask him so badly, but she was scared of the answer she might receive. She bit her lip, then thought 'screw it', they were on a roll with opening up to each other, and decided to ask anyway.

"Did you...ever...kill anyone?" She heard the fear in her own voice and it made her cringe.

She saw Malfoy stiffen, his shoulders tense up, and it was like a mask had descended over his face it looked so hard, like a marble statue. She waited for one second, two, and realized that the complete silence in the hallway meant that neither of them was breathing.

Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer, when she was thinking that she would

need to stutter out an apology and say that it wasn't her business, he spoke. One word.

"No."

She breathed out a sigh of relief and tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder.

He flinched at her touch but didn't move away, and as she looked up at him he turned his head in the other direction.

"Malfoy."

He didn't move.

"Malfoy, look at me."

Reluctantly he looked down at her, and she saw so many emotions flash in his eyes, anger and sadness and fear-

"That's all in the past. What matters now is what you decide to do with the second chance you've been given."

He stared down at her with wide eyes and seemed to be clinging onto her words, as if he were drowning and they were some sort of lifesaver.

"And from what I've seen of you over the past few months, I think you're going to be just fine."

She felt and saw his body relax, and again he turned his head away, but not before she saw the tears that had sprung to his eyes again. She looked away as well, feeling that maybe she should leave him alone and continue on to her dorm by herself-

"Thank you."

It was her turn to freeze. She turned back to him, and thanked Merlin that his eyes were dry, because she didn't know what she would do if he broke down in front of her. She smiled at him, a little sadly.

"No need to thank me. That's what friends are for."

She saw the shock in his eyes at her use of the word "friends", and she chuckled. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged it out loud, but what else would they be? They'd long since passed the barrier of only hanging out because of Pansy.

"That's right, Malfoy. Me and you. 'Friends'."

He stared down at her, shock the only emotion visible on his face for another second, until he smiled dazzlingly, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm glad."

She smiled up a him.

"Me, too."

She suddenly felt the urge to hug him, to touch him, put her hand in his, but thought that might be too much so she settled with wrapping her arms around herself and looking out the window.

"It's great that your mum's getting help, by the way. I know it's probably hard now, but it'll be best in the end, don't you think?"

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded his head. "You're probably right."

He resumed walking, and Hermione followed him.

"Well, at least Zabini will be here over Christmas with you, right?" she asked, attempting to interject more cheerfulness into the conversation.

He shook his head. "He won't, actually. Apparently Lovegood's invited him to stay with her and her father over the break, and he's accepted. He wanted to tell me as soon as he could, since it means I'll be alone."

"But you can't be by yourself on Christmas! You'll be the only seventh year staying at the castle!"

He shrugged, endeavoring to smile and feign nonchalance, but he wasn't convincing.

Her heart started pounding as an idea came to her, but it was insane. And more than likely he'd refuse. Which she couldn't blame him for, really, because it was crazy to even _consider_ asking him-

"Doyouwanttocomehomewithme?" she blurted out, then cursed herself silently.

"_What_?"

It was her turn to hurry ahead. "Nothing, forget I asked, I wasn't thinking-"

"You don't think your parents would mind?"

She stopped, looking back at him. The world was suddenly spinning, and she was struck by the surreal nature of the situation, because this _could not _be her life, this could not be real, she had really _not_ just invited Draco Malfoy, of all people, to come spend Christmas with her, at her home, with her muggle parents, because _she felt sorry for him_-

"I don't see why they would," she heard herself saying. "We've got plenty of room, and they've always told me I should try bringing my friends from school round to _our_ home sometime."

He looked at her skeptically. "I don't know, Granger."

"Don't feel bad if you don't want to, I'd completely understand," she rushed out. "It'd be pretty bizarre for you, staying with muggles, considering your…history."

She was trying, and failing, to be sensitive. He chuckled.

"That's a diplomatic way to put it."

She shrugged, turned back around, and started walking again.

"Don't worry, Malfoy, I know-"

"Draco."

She swiveled to face him. "What?"

"You should call me Draco. And I should call you Hermione. Seeing as how we're _friends_ now, and all that. Besides, don't you think your parents will think it a bit weird when I show up on your doorstep with you to spend the holiday with them and we're calling each other by our surnames?"

She was speechless. She couldn't help it. But she smiled, because she couldn't help that either.


	18. Unexpected Session: Draco

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows guys! Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

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><p>Draco knocked on the door in front of him without even thinking. He had been so overwhelmed after his conversation with Granger – no, <em>Hermione<em> – that he hadn't really stopped to think about the ramifications of pounding on a professor's office door at one in the morning. Then again, Sophie wasn't a typical professor. She wasn't a professor at all, actually, and she _had_ told him, months ago, at the end of their very first private session together, to come see her anytime he needed her, day or _night_. He just hadn't ever expected to take her up on such an offer.

As the seconds ticked by he calmed down slightly, and began to think this had been a bad idea. He had played it cool in front of Granger – no, _Hermione_, _Merlin_ – but it was almost as if someone else had accepted her invitation to join her and her _muggle family_ for Christmas for him. Not that he minded that they were muggles anymore, really, but he didn't know the first thing _about_ muggles-

His thought process was interrupted by Sophie Oblenio opening the door. She was wearing a very thick, fluffy brown robe over her dressing gown, and it was tied tightly around her waist. Her hair, normally coifed perfectly, was completely disheveled, and her eyes were crusted over with sleep. _Fuck_.

"Draco," she said groggily. "Please, come in."

He stayed where he was, rooted to the spot. "I'm so sorry, Sophie, I shouldn't have woken you, I'll just leave-"

"Nonsense," she scoffed lightly, opening the door wider and flicking her wand toward the fire, which immediately began blazing cheerfully. "I'll make us some hot chocolate, and then we can sit down and have a nice chat about whatever it is that inspired you to wake me up in the middle of the night."

Coming from any other authority figure this might have been chastising, but Sophie had said it playfully, and he felt slightly reassured. He crossed the threshold, and she shut the door behind him with a snap.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later he was holding a blue porcelain mug filled with steaming cocoa. He and Sophie were in the two armchairs by the fire. She sipped at her chocolate cautiously.<p>

"Nothing like a nice cup of cocoa to wake you up. I've never been much for coffee myself, can't stand the taste."

She smiled over at him, and he just stared back at her, unsure what to say.

"So, Draco, what brings you here?"

"Um," he began eloquently, running his free hand through his hair. "I don't really know where to start."

She nodded. "Well, it looked like you had quite a nice time at the ball, so I don't think you're here about anything that happened tonight, are you?"

He shook his head, then stopped himself. "Well, not about anything that happened at the ball. It's about something that happened after."

She looked at him over the top of her mug, but said nothing. He stood up abruptly.

"This was stupid. I don't know why I'm here." He set down his hot chocolate on the small side table between them and began walking toward the door.

"Draco, sit down," he heard her say in a clipped voice. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He'd never heard her sound so forceful before. He turned around slowly, and she sighed.

"I don't mean to be…demanding. Normally I'd never insist that a patient open up to me against their will. But you came here, in the middle of the night, and woke me up for a reason. Clearly there is _something_ you'd like to talk about. And that makes me very happy, Draco." She smiled at him, as if to emphasize her point, and as always it seemed very genuine. She continued.

"You haven't opened up in any of the therapy sessions this year. At the beginning of the year, I don't think you were opening up to anyone. But things have changed, haven't they?"

He said nothing, but nodded, once.

"The Draco I met at the beginning of the year is a very different Draco than the one standing before me now, and I know it has nothing to do with me. It's because you've allowed yourself to open up to your friends. Which is _wonderful_. If the ball tonight had been held just two months ago, I doubt you'd even have gone, much less enjoyed yourself, and I saw that you had what looked like a lovely evening. Would you say that's true?"

Again he nodded.

"But clearly, something has happened that you feel you can't talk to your friends about. And you came here, to me. That's a huge step, Draco. I would love to talk with you about it, if you'll just come sit back down."

He stared at her for a few moments. She was right, about all of it, which was irritating. He should just go back to his room and go to sleep, and tell Hermione tomorrow that he'd changed his mind, and be done with it.

He walked back to the empty armchair and sat down.

"Hermione invited me to spend the break with her and her family."

Out of all the things that Sophie might have thought he was going to say, this clearly wasn't one of them. That gave him a small amount of satisfaction. After a few moments of stunned silence, she recovered.

"How delightful! Hermione is such a thoughtful young woman, I'm sure you'll have a lovely time."

He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head down, hands buried in his hair, and looked down at the floor.

"She only did it because she feels sorry for me."

"What makes you say that?"

He regarded her warily for a few seconds. "I told her that my mother has been checked in to St. Mungo's for depression."

Sophie's face fell.

"Draco, I'm so sorry. Would you like me to do anything to help? Perhaps I can stop by and visit her a few times a month, see if she's interested in talking with me."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He thought he'd done a fair job of remaining nonchalant with Hermione and being relatively playful, but this was too much.

"What is _with_ you people? Why are you being so nice? It's maddening! I don't want to be pitied! I don't need it! Pity is so _useless_. It's all good and well when Hermione and I are just joking around, working on Arithmancy, or hanging out with Pansy, or dancing at a ball, but I _can't take this_." He stood up again and thought about kicking over his chair, but he didn't want to appear petulant, so he restrained himself and simply crossed his arms, staring into the fire. Sophie looked at him sadly.

"Draco, I wasn't offering my help because I feel bad for you. I was offering it because I care about you, I care about all the students at this school, and I was hoping I could help. And I don't think Hermione invited you to stay with her over the break because she felt sorry for you either. I can't say with _one hundred percent_ certainty, but I'm quite sure it is because she enjoys your company and the two of you are becoming friends! You've got to stop pushing everyone away like this. Would you think that if Pansy had invited you to stay with _her_?"

"No," he answered immediately.

"Good. Then you shouldn't think that about Hermione either. I'm sure part of you is nervous, what with her being muggleborn, but don't be. This will be an excellent learning opportunity for you, don't you think?"

He sneered at her. _Learning opportunity?_ Then he hastily rearranged his facial features, in case she thought he was sneering about Hermione's parents being muggles, which he wasn't. She laughed.

"Okay, I know you don't want to hear about what a great _learning opportunity_ spending a holiday with muggles will be for you, but you can't deny it's true."

He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling and pondering if he should voice his final fear. He'd already admitted a great deal. Why not go all the way?

"I've never met anyone's parents that didn't know who my family was."

"Ah. And you're worried you won't impress them."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Not impress them. Just that…"

Sophie smiled at him, this time full of warmth. "Draco, Hermione likes you enough to have invited you back to her house. Surely she sees something in you her parents will approve of."

He shrugged, looking away. "I don't have to go with her. I can always just stay here, and study. It'll be the perfect time to start prepping for N.E.W.T.s."

"But you don't really want to stay here, do you?"

He didn't answer her for a full minute. Sophie did not break the silence.

It was strange, because when the fuck had this become his life? Hermione Granger had invited him back to her house and he _wanted_ to go. He could pretend it was just because he didn't want to spend the break alone at the castle, but that wouldn't be entirely true.

"No," he finally conceded quietly. "I don't."

"Good," she declared. "Besides, if you really want to spend the break studying for your N.E.W.T.s, I imagine Hermione would be _exceptionally_ excited about that idea."

Despite everything, he burst out laughing.


	19. Winter Break, Day One

**Author's Note:** Thank you SO SO MUCH for all the lovely reviews, favorites, and follows! You guys are wonderful, really. I'm sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter. I've had it written for almost two weeks actually, but I wasn't happy with the characterization and flow of everything. I've worked on it, and it's certainly better than it was, although I'm still not happy with it. But, it's gotten to the point where I'm have serious writer's block about it so I figured I just needed to post it. So, hope you enjoy, despite its shortcomings! Many apologies.

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><p>"I can't believe this is happening."<p>

Hermione looked over at Draco. He was staring at the white front door to her parent's house, a slightly panicked look on his face.

"I'm having a hard time believing it myself," she murmured, so quietly that he might not have heard.

"You're sure they don't mind me being here?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't repress a smile. "Draco, we went over this a hundred times on the train! Professor McGonagall let me send them a message by floo this morning. They're thrilled to have you."

That was certainly true. Her mother had been especially effusive about the idea, which Hermione suspected had to do with the fact that it was a _boy_ she was bringing home. She'd need to clear up any budding excitement her mother had on _that_ front as soon as possible.

She couldn't help but wonder how different their reaction might have been had they known anything about how Draco had treated her for the first six years of school. As it was, her parents knew very little about the day-to-day details of her life at Hogwarts, and the only thing she'd ever mentioned to them about Draco was when she and Harry had testified on his behalf in June. She'd always been good at keeping in touch with them when at school, writing a letter a week, but mostly those letters had featured information about her schoolwork and funny anecdotes involving Harry and Ron.

Not that she wasn't close with her parents, but ever since she'd gotten her letter to Hogwarts, it was like an invisible barrier had risen between them. They loved that she was a witch, and were always proud of her accomplishments, but it was a world they could never fully understand or participate in, and that made things…complicated. Not to mention, she had tended to gloss over the danger of the situations she had gotten herself into over the years. She hadn't wanted them to worry.

Draco was still eyeing the door with obvious apprehension.

"It's going to be great," she said, almost believing it herself, and then knocked on the door.

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><p>Draco waited, his heart rate rapidly increasing, as the seconds ticked by-<p>

Suddenly the door was pulled open, and a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair pulled up into a neat bun stood there, smiling widely at them. She wore a dark grey sweater over a crispy white button-down shirt, and jeans. It was the first time he had ever seen an adult in non-wizarding clothing.

"Hermione!" the woman gushed, pulling her into a hug which Hermione returned eagerly.

"Mum," she greeted, smiling, then turned to face him. "This is Draco Malfoy, my friend from school."

Draco felt his face turn red as this woman's chocolate brown eyes, so similar to Hermione's own, locked eyes on him. He braced himself for her smile to turn into a sneer, a smirk, a snarl-

_Merlin_, he was being ridiculous. She continued smiling.

His heart was still pounding furiously. What if muggles had some strange custom for introductions he didn't know about? Surely Hermione would have mentioned it on the train, but what if she just expected him to know it? And he didn't? And he made a fool of himself in front of her parents, right from the start-

"Draco, I'm Ellen Granger, Hermione's mum. It's so nice to have you!"

She held out both her arms, and for a split second he had no idea what she was about to do.

And then she hugged him.

Not in an awkward way, either. She put both her arms around him and squeezed, just slightly, while he stood there, arms straight down by his sides, rigid as a board, completely shocked. He'd only ever been hugged by two other people in his entire life: his mother, and Pansy. And now, a complete stranger, a complete _muggle_ stranger, was hugging him. Like she meant it.

He shifted his eyes to look at Hermione, and saw she was having a hard time keeping her laughter silent. He obviously looked ridiculous, standing there like he'd had a body-bind curse put on him while _her mother _hugged him.

Before he had a chance to return the hug, her mother, Ellen, had stepped back. She was still smiling at him, and fortunately seemed unperturbed that he had not reciprocated. He realized he hadn't said anything yet.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Granger. I'm very grateful to you and your husband for allowing me to spend the holidays at your home."

"Ellen," a man's voice called from somewhere in the back of the house, "is that Hermione?"

As Hermione's mother turned around to respond, he snuck a glance at Hermione, who was giving him a weird look.

"What?" he mouthed.

"So formal," she whispered teasingly. He rolled his eyes.

"Come inside!" Mrs. Granger instructed them. "Hermione, show Draco upstairs, then come back down and we'll have some tea, your father's just put the kettle on. And Draco, please call me Ellen, Mrs. Granger makes me feel so old!"

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><p>"So, this is my room," Hermione said as she set her bags down at the foot of the bed. "Yours is at the end of the hall."<p>

She straightened up and saw that Draco was peering around curiously. She immediately felt self-conscious. Although her room had been updated over the years, she had never put much thought into it since she spent the majority of the year at Hogwarts. Things were a little girlier than she would have had otherwise, like the tiny pink flowers on her bed sheets. She remained silent on the matter, however, not wanting to draw attention to it. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

"I would say that I can't believe you have four full bookcases, but honestly, I'd be more surprised if you didn't." She smiled.

"Yes, after the fourth my parents refused to buy me any more books and said instead I'd have to check them out of the library."

He nodded thoughtfully. "But not because they couldn't afford it, I mean, this house seems fairly large."

It had been a statement, but it seemed like more of a question. She chuckled. "Yes, well, we can't all live in ancient manor homes, but my family doesn't have any problems financially. My parents are dentists, they have their own practice."

Draco looked at her blankly.

"A dentist is like a muggle healer, but one that only deals with your teeth."

He scrunched his face up as he struggled to understand what that would entail. The funny feeling she'd had in her stomach when she'd danced with him the night before returned suddenly with full force.

"So, they what, make you a new tooth if one falls out, or something?"

"That's part of it," she said encouragingly. "But the most important part of being a dentist is preventative care, they want your teeth and gums to be healthy so that a tooth _doesn't _fall out."

He nodded. "Okay. That seems…like an interesting profession."

She snorted. "It seems pretty boring to me, but they both like it. Decent money, good hours, and they do a lot of pro bono work for kids in underdeveloped countries without access to dental care."

He stared at her. "Hermione, I have no idea what the hell you just said."

She laughed. "You can ask my parents about it over tea. They'll adore you for asking them about it."

She left the room, pulling her wand from her sleeve and dropping it onto her bedside table as she passed, in a way that she hoped seemed casual and that Draco wouldn't notice-

"Why are you leaving your wand?"

She sighed, but did not turn to face him as she led him to the guestroom where he'd be staying.

"It makes my parents feel more comfortable."

He scoffed. "It makes them feel more comfortable for you to _not _have your wand on you? I mean, I get that Voldemort's dead and that the most immediate danger has passed, but there are still some fairly prominent Death Eaters on the loose. Death Eaters who I'm sure would love to target the family of the girl who was directly responsible for his downfall!"

"There are wards on the house, Draco. We're perfectly safe. This is your room. We passed the bathroom on the way, it'll be just you and me sharing it, my parents have one in their room downstairs-"

"Wards can be broken, Hermione! Maybe we can mention it to your parents together-"

She rounded on him, arms crossed defensively. "I obliviated them and they're having a hard time trusting me, okay?" She looked out of his window, which had a view of the street, to avoid seeing his completely shocked expression.

"You obliviated your _own parents_? _Why_?"

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Right before I left last year, to help Harry and Ron search for the horcruxes. I had to make sure they would be safe."

"So you _obliviated_ them? What did you need to make them forget?"

She bit her lip in an effort to keep her eyes from watering, the pain from the memory of what she had been forced to do suddenly rushing back. "Me."

Draco stared at her, his eyes confused for a second until understanding suddenly dawned in them.

"_Oh_."

She shrugged, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

"I altered their memories and gave them new identities, and they moved to Australia. I had a bit of a time tracking them down in May, but our Ministry got some Australian Ministry employees to assist me in my search, and we found them after two weeks. When I finally lifted the charm and explained everything to them, they were relieved to see me safe, but they were also…kind of pissed at me. I spent a few weeks with them before going back to stay with Ron's family while I helped the Ministry, and it wasn't the best of times. It wasn't until I brought Harry and Ron to stay for a week toward the end of the summer that they became more understanding about it, and things returned to mostly normal. Still, they asked me if I wouldn't mind not keeping my wand on me when I'm at the house from now on. And as long as there are wards, I really don't mind. I still take it with me whenever we leave."

He was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment as he digested what she had just old him. Then finally: "That's some seriously advanced charms work."

She smiled weakly, but it was the first time acknowledgement of her magical prowess had failed to make her feel genuinely happy. She gestured around the room randomly, hoping to change the subject.

"You can put down your bags wherever, that door in the corner is to a closet, and we can go downstairs and have tea with my parents."

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><p>Draco thought his initial meeting with Hermione's father Daniel (Dan for short, apparently) had gone much better than the one with her mother. The most crucial element in his success was the fact that Dan had merely wanted to greet him with a handshake instead of a hug, as he had been dreading. A handshake was something he was much more familiar and comfortable with.<p>

Per Hermione's suggestion he had made a point to inquire into their "pro bono" work, which both her parents had been most enthusiastic in explaining to him. It was actually quite interesting, not to mention annoyingly impressive and selfless, and went a long way in explaining a lot of Hermione's altruistic tendencies. Best of all it had provided the basis for their entire conversation over tea. He had been more nervous than he was willing to admit about whether or not he'd have anything to chat with them about, something he had failed to take into consideration when he had accepted Hermione's invitation. However, his fears were now slightly assuaged.

Dan rose from the table, gathering their cups and setting them in the sink. He clapped his hands together commandingly.

"Alright, ladies, I'm about to start cooking dinner, so stay out of the kitchen for the next hour unless you want us to be forced to order takeout."

Hermione and her mother exchanged a look and a shared smile as they headed into the living room. Draco followed them wonderingly.

"He's going to make dinner by himself?"

Hermione and her mother chuckled. "Trust me, Draco, you don't want me or my mother trying to do anything in that kitchen."

Ellen nodded. "We're both tremendously terrible cooks. Dan doesn't even like us to be in the kitchen while he's making food, says we give off bad juju."

"Yes," Dan called from the kitchen, "unfortunately Hermione inherited that gene from her mother instead of me."

Draco quirked his eyes at Hermione, surprised, and even in front of her mother he couldn't resist this golden opportunity to tease her. "Really, Hermione? You're actually _bad_ at something? And you haven't taken a class to try and rectify this?"

She looked at him sheepishly. "Actually I have. The summer before our fourth year, at a local cooking school. It was a disaster."

Ellen smiled at her daughter fondly. "Remember that cake you brought home?"

Hermione groaned, turning away from him. "_Mum_."

Ellen's eyes sparkled as she turned to Draco. "Draco, it was _awful_. Completely lopsided, dense as a brick, and somehow she managed to turn the icing a puke-green color, it looked completely unappetizing."

"I just get so flustered when I'm cooking," Hermione grumbled defensively, refusing to look back in his direction. Ellen leaned over to give her daughter a kiss on top of her head.

"Sweetheart, your father and I _like_ that you're not good at everything. Keeps you humble, you know."

Draco mulled this over. There were very few things he could think of that he was better at than Hermione. Flying, because it scared her. The Dark Arts, although he didn't like to think about that much. Was there even anything else? Arithmancy? No, they were equals, he wasn't _better_. He'd like to add to the list, try and make himself feel less inferior around her. Even though he knew absolutely nothing about cooking, she had said she was _horrible_. It seemed sort of like Potions. And he was pretty damn good at Potions (even factoring in Severus's blatant favoritism toward him). What was the worst that could happen?


	20. Winter Break, Day Four

**Author's Note**: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews I received last chapter! And of course the favorites and follows as well. It's always exciting to just see that people are _viewing_ this story, so I truly appreciate anyone who comes here to read it, although reviews are certainly the most exciting *wink*. ANYWAY, here's the next chapter. It's been an interesting challenge, writing Draco and Hermione at her parent's home together. On the one hand it's a lot of fun, because it's such a different environment for them, I think it allows them to develop a lot as friends/potential lovers. Also, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were mentioned so little in the books, I've been able to be quite creative with both their characters as well as the way they interact with Hermione. However, writing these scenes has also been an enormous hardship. I'm so convinced there's a better and more realistic way to do it, and I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it's currently out of my abilities range and I'm just going to have to publish these chapters without being completely happy with them. Perhaps if I did not have a life outside of ffnet I would be able to devote enough energy into getting it just right, but alas, that is not the case, so you're stuck with this attempt. Sorry, guys.

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><p>Draco couldn't sleep. Normally this would not be a problem. He was used to it. He'd grab a book and read for an hour or two, eventually falling asleep with the book propped up on his chest. But right now, at two in the morning, laying in his bed in the Granger's guest bedroom, he couldn't distract himself by reading. He had a problem to solve.<p>

The problem had presented itself that evening right before dinner, when Hermione and her mother had returned from an afternoon spent shopping. He had stayed behind, preferring to watch a football match with Dan on the muggle device he now knew to be called a television, and then assisting him with dinner. He'd actually been assisting Dan with all the meals. That first night he had been positively seduced by the smell of butter, garlic and onions frying on the stovetop. He had never seen anyone cook before coming to Hermione's house. His family's house elves took care of it when he was growing up, and the house elves at Hogwarts took care of it when he was at school. He'd never had much cause to go into the kitchens at either place, and certainly never did when there was a meal being prepared. He had never even been tempted to try to cook until he found out it was something Hermione was bad at, but watching Dan transform a bunch of seemingly random ingredients into a cohesive unit had captivated him.

He had been wrong to compare it to Potions. He should have realized; if it was anything like Potions, Hermione would have mastered it, she was in the N.E.W.T. level with him, wasn't she? Potions was structured, ordered, precise. Everything had to be measured exactly, stirred exactly, simmered exactly. You had to follow instructions precisely, lest there be disastrous results. But cooking…cooking was more fluid. More chaotic. More _exciting_. You could add a little of this, a lot of that. You could substitute, alter, _invent_. You hardly ever had to be _precise_. Dan had told him a true cook was an improvisational artist. Draco had never fancied himself an artist at anything, and he'd never wanted to until now.

Of course, Dan did things the muggle way, and that made it harder for Draco. It would be so much easier when he could just point his wand at a pot of water and have it instantly start boiling, instead of waiting for it to happen. But, despite that, he was really enjoying himself. His head cleared in the kitchen. Usually his mind was preoccupied with worry, about his mother, about his future. But every time he'd been in the kitchen, his mind went silent as he concentrated all his energy on the task in front of him. The only other time he'd felt that way was when he'd been flying.

He and Dan had been in the kitchen when Hermione and Ellen came home. They were deep into a discussion about something Draco couldn't understand, something about Bennets and a woman named Charlotte and whether or not she was a lesbian. He largely ignored them at first, as Dan was trying to teach him how to toss the brussel sprouts he was currently sautéing in a pan. After a few hesitant attempts he finally managed it, earning him a clap on the back and a "nicely done!" from Dan. He turned to grin smugly at Hermione, who was watching him with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed.

Ever since that first night, when Dan had told Draco he thought he had "real promise", he'd been teasingly lording it over Hermione. She always commented vaguely on the matter, which he took to mean she was rather miffed he had bested her in something she had tried and failed to be good at.

Upon seeing his gloating expression, she rolled her eyes. He looked down at the multiple bags beside her. "Get me anything?" he had asked jokingly. Because he never expected, in a million years, that she would have actually, truly gotten him something. He expected her to scoff and respond with a sarcastic quip like of course, a baby doll, isn't that what he wanted? Or, Merlin no, she wasn't going to waste her money on the likes of him. Meant in jest. A game. Playful banter.

But her eyes widened slightly. "N-no," she stammered, attempting to casually slide one of the bags behind her with her foot. It was an obvious lie, and he stared at her, completely taken aback, and completely unsure of what to say next. The only two people who had ever given him gifts besides his parents were Pansy and Severus. Not Greg, not Vince, not Blaise, not even his Aunt Bellatrix. He felt all the breath leave his lungs.

Dan seemed completely oblivious to the awkward exchange taking place between Draco and his daughter. He was humming to himself, as he often did while cooking, peeking into the oven as he stirred a bowl of tomatoes to coat them in olive oil. However, Ellen, who had followed Hermione into the kitchen and had been scribbling something onto a calendar on the wall, definitely noticed. Her chocolate brown eyes, so similar in color and shape to her daughters, passed from Hermione to Draco slowly. A slight smile ghosted over her features, so briefly that he might have imagined it.

"Dan, I need you in the living room."

"Honey, I'm in the middle of making-"

"Right. Now."

Ellen had practically growled the last two words. Dan had turned to look at her, and they seemed to have a brief but intense conversation with only their eyes. Without another word spoken between them, Ellen turned promptly on her heel and exited the room, Dan following behind her a bit sheepishly.

He and Hermione continued to regard each other. After a few more tense moments, he finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe you got me something."

She blushed, which he found both amusing and becoming on her.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

He groaned. "That's even worse."

Her brows furrowed, confused. "Why is that worse?"

"Because if you had succeeded with it being a surprise, it wouldn't have given me any time to get you something in return."

Her blush deepened, and she looked down at the floor. He'd never seen her be so timid.

"You don't have to get me anything."

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove and the brussel sprouts. "Of course I do!" he replied, almost angry. "I can't be indebted to you even more than I am now!"

He heard her huff behind him, but he did not turn back around.

"Draco, it's just a Christmas present. You won't be indebted to me just because I get you something. I like giving gifts! Besides, it's not like I got you anything noteworthy or extravagant. Just a little something. Honestly, you're making a chimaera cave out of a niffler den."

He said nothing, turning the heat down to medium low on the burner. The sprouts would burn soon if he wasn't careful. He wanted them crispy, but not _that _crispy, and they still needed to go in the oven for a few minutes to finish. Dan had been allowing him to be in total charge of one dish each meal, and he wasn't about to muck it up.

"Draco?"

Her voice was closer now; he hadn't heard her approach. He sighed, his shoulders sagging. It was certainly true that he was worried he'd be indebted to her. But the real reason he was so upset was because she had outshined him, again. She had proven, again, how much of a better person than him she was. She had been the one to invite him to spend the holidays with her, and to him, that was gift enough. It made him uncomfortable to acknowledge such feelings, but it had startled him how touched he was by Hermione insisting just a few short days ago that they were friends. That someone like her would not just willingly, but happily, align herself with someone like him. And now, here she was, being selfless and unwaveringly generous, again. The thought of getting her a present had never even crossed his mind. He'd like to think that it was just his subconscious protecting him, because getting her a present would be awkward, not to mention he'd have no idea what to get. But really, it was just because he was a self-absorbed asshole.

"You really didn't have to get me a present, Hermione."

"Merlin, it's _not_ a big deal-"

"No, _seriously_. You've already given me…so much."

That shut her up. He turned around slowly, afraid of what he might see. She was smiling at him in a way he'd never seen her smile before. Her eyes were shining brightly. Her lips spread slowly, like ripples across a water's surface. It was not playful, the way she had smiled at him during the food fight, or excited, the way she had smiled at him after Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff in the Quidditch match in November. It was not reassuring, the way she had smiled at him when he came to the Three Broomsticks, or shy, the way she had smiled at him when they danced at the ball. It wasn't even radiant, the way they had both smiled at each other after admitting they were friends. He couldn't really place it, but it filled him up with warmth, in a way none of the other smiles had. He was grateful she didn't feign ignorance, and ask him to outline what _exactly_ she had given him already, because he wasn't sure he would be able to manage. Suddenly, he was struck with a strange desire to be closer to her, but at that moment someone cleared their throat, and they both jumped.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Dan, breezing by them toward the oven, "but this bird needs to be checked."

He and Dan had finished dinner, and then they all ate together. Afterward they played a muggle board game that took ages to finish called Monopoly. Ellen won, and since it was almost midnight at that point she and Dan went straight to bed, bidding him and Hermione goodnight. They stayed up a bit longer chatting about past family Christmas vacations, but she fell asleep in the middle of his story about his family's trip to Germany five years ago. He regarded her for a few quiet moments, watching the way the hair in front of her nose fluttered about every time she exhaled, then realized how creepy he was being. He considered letting her sleep on the couch, but he couldn't find a blanket and worried she might get cold. He also considered carrying her upstairs to her bed himself, but worried about the awkwardness that might ensue if she woke up on the journey. So he shook her gently to wake her up, and they both went into their respective bedrooms.

An hour and a half later and he still hadn't figured out a present to get her. He wanted to get her something special. Something thoughtful. To make up for being the asshole who didn't even consider getting her a present at first. The only previous experience he had giving a present to a girl was with Pansy. He'd only ever given her two things. Chocolate, which he was sure Hermione would enjoy, he didn't know a single female that didn't like chocolate, but it would be so impersonal. And jewelry, which clearly wasn't Hermione's cup of tea. Aside from the chocolate, she wasn't really a typical girl. He rather liked that about her.

He'd been going over and over everything he knew about her in his mind, and he kept coming back to one thing in particular. It was an interest they both shared, but aside from the obvious, he wasn't really sure what she liked about it. He knew what _he_ liked, now, and when he was younger, when he'd first fallen in love with it. And suddenly it clicked. The perfect present.

Grinning at his own genius, he rolled over onto his side. He was asleep in five minutes.


	21. Winter Break, Day Five

**Author's Note**: Many thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, guys! I really, truly appreciate it. Here's the next chapter, much earlier than normal for me. Hope you like it!

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><p>Hermione considered herself a fairly self-reflective person. She was well aware of her strengths (logic, perseverance, loyalty, compassion) but also her weaknesses (artistic creativity, anxiety, fear of failure). She had acknowledged, to <em>herself<em>, the crush she had on Ron _years_ before it actually came to light. So now, when she was developing feelings for someone else, it would stand to reason that she would be able to admit it to herself, first, before anyone else realized. But that wasn't the case. Thanks to her mother.

Whenever she and her mother were alone (which hadn't been too often, but often enough), her mother had alluded to a relationship between her and Draco, which she had vehemently reasoned against. Her mother commented on how polite he was; Hermione challenged that it was just for their (meaning her parents') benefit. Her mother remarked on how good-looking he was; Hermione posited that he wasn't her "type" (although really, she didn't think she had much of a type; what did Viktor and Ron have in common, looks wise?). Her mother observed how intelligent he seemed to be; Hermione emphasized that he only _seemed_ that way (but this wasn't true at all, he was taking five N.E.W.T. classes). Her mother mentioned how well they got along; Hermione…had no argument for this. They _did_ get along well. Surprisingly.

Hermione told her mother to mind her own business. Her mother smirked.

Thankfully, her father did not mention a potential relationship when he and Hermione were alone, although he did talk about Draco an awful lot. He talked about how naturally gifted Draco was in the kitchen; he babbled about how dedicated Draco was to "achieving excellence" ( a favorite phrase of her father's); he jabbered about how witty Draco's sense of humor was. Hermione agreed with all his accolades silently, not wanting to rise to the bait he was setting for her. Although her father never said anything directly, she knew he was making pointed comparisons to Ron. Her father and Ron had gotten along fine when he and Harry had visited over the summer, but she knew her father had been a bit disappointed. She was her parent's only child, and she was a girl. She knew, without a doubt, that her father loved her as much as any father loved their child, but he had never tried to hide how excited he was for her to find "the one", a man, for him to bond with like a son. It put an inordinate amount of pressure on her about the matter, and she did not like to dwell on it.

Still, she had been able to ignore the feelings that had been sneaking up on her ever since she and Draco had almost gotten caught by Filch the night they stayed out past curfew working on their Arithmancy project. She had ignored them when they were in class, she had ignored them when she, Pansy and Draco had walked back from Hogsmeade together, she had even been able to ignore them when they were trying to slap her in the face at the ball. She had somehow managed to build a wall so high around herself that she had even been ignoring them since he'd been staying with her over the break, although every day the wall crumbled down more and more, until yesterday her mother had just kicked the rest of it over completely.

She and her mother had been at the mall, and she'd been explaining her idea for Draco's Christmas present. Her mother had listened to her, all her reasoning and explanations, nodding and smiling serenely, waiting for her to talk herself into silence. When she finally stopped, her mother had looked at her, right in the eye, and said very smugly, "I _knew_ you had a thing for this boy."

Hermione's mouth had dropped open comically. "_Mum_! I do _not_!"

Her mother just shook her head triumphantly. "Hermione, there's no use lying to _me_. I'm your _mother_. Mothers know everything about their children."

Hermione huffed. "You do _not_ know everything about me."

Her mother shrugged. "Okay. Maybe not _everything_. But we're certainly in tune enough with our child's feelings to know when they like someone or not!"

"Well yes, I like him of course, he's my friend!"

Her mother shot her a look. "Hermione, the chemistry between you two is obvious."

That stopped Hermione in her tracks. "You think we have chemistry?" she let out, before she could restrain herself. Her mother grinned. Hermione slumped her shoulders in defeat.

To be fair, she had been catching herself having more-than-friendly thoughts about him ever since his arrival at her parents' home. First, when they were having tea, and her parents were explaining their job and pro bono work to him, the way he had scrunched up his face as he attempted to understand them had made that strange sensation in her stomach come back with full force. Now, in hindsight, she was finally able to admit what she had been denying to herself about what that odd abdominal feeling was: butterflies. Draco gave her butterflies. Draco. Malfoy. Gave. Her. Butterflies. It was so absurd she could hardly stand it.

Fortunately, she was also a highly logical person. While it was clear she and Draco were friends, and he was happy with that arrangement, there was no way he'd ever want anything more with her. Despite what her mother had said about them having "chemistry", Hermione had decided her mother was just seeing something she wanted to be there, rather than what was actually present (or, in this case, wasn't). She knew his blood prejudices were gone, but he'd always made it very clear throughout school that he found her to be almost offensively unattractive. While Hermione did not feel that harshly about herself, it was clear Draco did, and he hadn't been saying such things just because she was a muggleborn. If the Patil twins had been muggleborns, she did not think he would have chosen to hurl such insults at them. It would have been ludicrous. Sure, the night of the ball he had complimented her, but that was with almost an entire bottle of Sleakeazy's solution in her hair, and makeup on, which were obviously not everyday occurrences. Plus, he'd only said she "cleaned up nice", not "you look beautiful", or anything.

So, she resigned herself to the fact that they would remain friends, which wasn't unbearable. She wasn't going to throw herself off the Astronomy Tower or anything because Draco didn't _like her back_. Still, it did make her a little sad, and hard to bear _certain_ things. Like watching him cook. Or when he smiled at her; not his usual smirk, but his real, rare smile. Or when she had run into him coming out of the bathroom that morning after he had just showered.

Yeah, that one had been kind of hard to take.

She supposed it was inevitable, that it would have eventually happened, with them sharing the upstairs. She had heard him showering, of course, but when she peeked out into the hallway a little while afterward, the light in the bathroom was off, so she assumed he had gone back into his room. She had grabbed a few necessary items from her room and was heading down the hallway when he stepped out.

He wasn't totally indecent or anything. He had put his pajamas back on (dark green silk, pants and a long-sleeved button down shirt), but he'd left the shirt open. His usually white-blonde hair had been darkened by the water and was plastered to his head. Drops of water were running down the sides of his face, across his sculpted cheek bones, and there was one drop in particular that was making a very interesting pathway from his clavicle, down his sternum, over his stomach, and then disappearing when it reached the top of his pants. Draco wasn't ripped, but his body was definitely toned, and he had that very prominent v-shape at his hips that pointed right down to his goods that Hermione had always found particularly…mesmerizing. Realizing what she was doing, she snapped her head back up.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were in there. The light was off."

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "I like to shower with the lights off."

She nodded, processing this bit of information. She noted the drops of water skating across the surface of his skin again. "Didn't I give you a towel?"

"Yeah, I like to drip-dry sometimes."

She nodded again, feeling her brain go slightly fuzzy. "Right, well, I hope you didn't use all the hot water!" she managed to get out, before leaping past him and barricading herself behind the door.

On the whole, though, she thought she had conducted herself rather well.

And then of course there was the Present Incident. Hermione thought her heart might burst when he had told her she didn't need to get him a present because she'd "already given him so much". Such an acknowledgment, coming from him, of all people. He'd really come a long way.

Suddenly, there was a light knock at her bedroom door. She turned toward it curiously. It was a quarter to midnight. She'd been the last person in the house awake; her parents had gone to bed around ten, and Draco had only stayed up for half an hour after them. It had been a particularly exhausting day for everyone; after his shower, Draco had gone off on a mysterious mission she suspected had something to do with getting her a present, but he'd only been gone about 20 minutes. Then he and her father had spent almost the entire rest of the day prepping for Christmas dinner. Usually her Aunt Rebekah and her family came over on Christmas Day, but with Draco being there, everyone thought it might be best for it to be just the four of them. Still, her father wanted to go all out, so all the usual dishes were being prepared. Hermione alternated between sitting at the kitchen table, studying for N.E.W.T.s and determinedly _not_ sneaking glances at Draco while he worked, and helping her mother put up Christmas decorations. After dinner, they'd all assisted with the final decoration task: ornamenting the tree. Draco had been particularly bewildered by putting everything up by hand; house elves had always made up the tree in his home, and he didn't understand why her parents wouldn't just let him and Hermione use magic, as the elves did. Hermione had shrugged, and stated simply "it's one of our traditions".

Light knocking occurred again. She sat up, setting the book she had been intending to read on her bedside table. "Come in."

Draco walked in, and she curled her legs up closer under the covers, hiding her body. She wasn't wearing a bra, and although she wasn't particularly well-endowed up top, it was still pretty obvious, as her t-shirt was worn very thin.

He was wearing his green pajamas again, although this time the shirt was thankfully buttoned all the way to the top. She gestured for him to sit down, meaning in the chair by her window, but he perched himself on the edge of her bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. "What's up?" she asked softly.

"I've been thinking," he began, running a hand through his hair, whether in agitation or from nerves, she couldn't tell, "and I'd like to visit my mother in St. Mungo's on Christmas Day."

She smiled at him brightly. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Draco. We won't be eating dinner until four or five, so you could spend the whole day with her if you'd like."

He nodded, and glanced at her sideways. He seemed to be steeling himself to say something. She cocked her head to the side, curious.

"Would you - I mean, would you mind - I'd like it if you came with me."

"_What_?"

He sighed. "I know, but hear me out. A big reason for my mother's…depression, is that she is certain our family name is ruined, and that I've got no chance of doing anything with my life after graduation. Seeing that I've become friends with _you_, of all people…I think it'll do her some good."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't you think you'd like to see her alone? And can't you just _tell her _we're friends? Is it really necessary for me to be present, to confirm that fact?"

He looked at her imploringly. "Honestly, she might think I've made it up in an attempt to make her feel better. It's not like my mother's been able to watch me at school. Don't you think even Potter and Weasley would have a hard time believing it if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes?"

Well, he had a point.

"Draco, it's just-"

"It's too much," he interjected, standing up quickly. "I shouldn't have even asked. It was selfish of me, I can see that well enough now. I'll let you sleep, and I'll see you-"

"I'll go with you."

He stopped, halfway to the door. He looked down at her.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Thank you." His voice was gravelly and rough, like it was an effort for him to say such a thing. She shrugged.

"I just hope your mother likes me even a fraction as much as my parents like you."

"Your parents like me?" he asked, genuine surprise evident in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Draco, they adore you. Especially my Dad, he's essentially-", but she stopped herself from saying what, because it would be too mortifying. Draco looked at her expectantly.

"He's essentially _what_?"

She gulped. "You don't want to know."

"Try me."

She shook her head.

"Hermione, come _on_," he whined, and she was reminded immediately of the Old Draco, who always insisted on getting his way. Except the Old Draco would never have said her first name like that, and her heart wouldn't have suddenly sped up just because he had.

_Merlin_, she was pathetic.

She dropped her face into her hands, to hide herself from him as she said it. "He's essentially told me he'd love nothing more than to have you as a son-in-law."

Absolute silence, for a full five seconds. She knew, because she counted. Then-

Draco snorted derisively. "Your father clearly doesn't know you at all. There's not a chance in hell you'd marry someone like me."

And he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone to mull over his words, repeating them to herself again and again until she fell asleep.


	22. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note**: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, FAVORITES, AND FOLLOWS! You guys are friggin awesome.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! If you have the time, I'd really love to know what people think of the gifts I chose. But if you just want to read, that's cool too! No pressure.

* * *

><p>They had spent the day just the two of them. Her parents had left early to visit with her mother's sister Rebekah, and everyone had already agreed it would be overwhelming for Draco to be introduced to muggles who didn't know about the existence of magic. Draco had cooked her breakfast (cheese and tomato omelettes) by himself, which he was very smug about, and she had (only slightly begrudgingly) admitted that it was "quite tasty". They studied in companionable silence until noon, occasionally seeking the others opinion about a particularly difficult question.<p>

Draco had contemplated what to make for lunch, but Hermione insisted they go out somewhere, and they walked to a neighborhood deli. Afterwards she showed him the primary school she had attended, and he had been fascinated by the playground. Ignoring her protests, he had magically unlocked the gate and strode inside, curiously inspecting the swings, the slide, and the merry-go-round. She had watched him with an only slightly-aching heart, and asked if they could leave (her memories of the playground mostly being of her trying to not be noticed as she read a book, alone).

Once home, they played scrabble until her parents returned. Then Draco had helped her father make dinner; they'd eaten, and afterwards her father had built a fire and they'd huddled around it, drinking cocoa and telling stories, before watching 'Meet Me in St. Louis', which was her mother's favorite Christmas movie. Draco had not seemed to enjoy the movie at all, but he suffered in silence. Her parents turned in, and Hermione intended to do the same, until Draco suggested that they open each other's gifts a little early. It was almost midnight and therefore basically Christmas, he had pointed out.

* * *

><p>The gift was clumsily wrapped the muggle way; Draco had probably done it himself. She pictured him sprawled across the floor, brows furrowed in intense concentration as he tried to figure out how her parents' tape dispenser worked. The image was impossibly adorable, and she chuckled to herself as she tentatively began tearing at the green paper. Typical, that it was green paper he had chosen.<p>

The removal of the paper revealed an ordinary brown box with a piece of folded parchment taped to the top of it. Scrawled across it in surprisingly beautiful penmanship (not that she ever thought about it much, but in her mind, Draco's handwriting would not have been very neat, but she supposed it actually made sense) were the words "_READ FIRST_". He too had written a note explaining his gift. Grinning, she began to read:

_Hermione,_

_I am forced to admit that it took me an embarrassing amount of thought to figure out what I wanted to get you. I finally settled on getting you something that would seem rather obvious: a book. But this book has particular sentimental value to me._

_When I was very young, my mother would read to me before I went to bed. Nothing special, just your average wizard bedtime tales; Beedle the Bard, and the like. She was the one who taught me how to read, a skill I eventually mastered well enough to read without assistance around five. She encouraged me to read on my own, but I didn't for a long time. My father, though he has an extensive and impressive library as part of his private study at the Manor, was never much of a reader, and I wanted to be just like him._

_However, around the time I was nine, I accompanied my mother on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley. We were walking by Flourish and Blotts when my mother ran into a friend, and they stopped to chat. Completely uninterested in their conversation, I turned my attention to a box on the ground outside of the shop. It had a sign above it that read 'Free, please take one', so I peered inside. The books at the top did not peak my interest, for whatever reason; I no longer recall what they were about. But toward the bottom I came across a book with a very intriguing cover. It showed a group of four children, dancing with a lion. I took it home with me, and read it obsessively over the next few days. It was an engaging tale of four siblings and their adventure in a magical world, and I enjoyed it enormously._

_It was this book that ignited my passion for reading, a passion that you and I both share. Immediately after finishing the book, I asked my mother to buy me some more, a request she was more than happy to oblige. At the time, I did not realize the book I had taken from the box was part of a greater series of novels, which is perhaps fortunate. I reread it multiple times that year, but forgot about it soon enough, as one is wont to do at that age, and devoured the new books my mother brought home to me each week. _

_Still, the summer before our fourth year, I happened to be going through old belongings, and came across this book again. I decided I would ask about it when I went to Diagon Alley the next week to pick up my supplies for school. The young salesgirl had never heard of the title or the author, and I grew impatient with her and demanded to see the proprietor. He came out of his office, and I told him about the book and how I had come to own it years before. He kindly explained to me that it had been left by a muggleborn student in his shop, and unable to find the owner, he had added it to the box of books to be given away. You see, it was written by a very famous muggle author._

_Well, you can imagine the mortification that followed. I swore the owner to secrecy and quickly left the shop. It had never occurred to me that muggles might write about magic. As soon as I got home, I banished the book to the back of my closet, vowing to never think of it again._

_I still can't explain why I didn't just throw it away, or burn it, or something else permanently destructive. I suppose, even then, my subconscious knew how important the book was to me. I took the liberty of checking your numerous bookshelves to ensure you didn't already have a copy. You don't, although I'm sure you've read it before. It's a muggle children's story, after all._

_Draco_

Hermione was stunned. She had an inkling what the book was, but she couldn't be sure. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid off the box, and gazed down at a rather battered copy of C.S. Lewis's _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_. She slowly pulled it out of the box, and opened it. There on the inside cover, in significantly poorer penmanship, Draco's nine-year-old self had written 'Property of Draco Lucius Malfoy'.

* * *

><p>Having already commented on the perfection of the wrapping job, he knew that Hermione had gotten his gift wrapped at the store, by a professional, which made him feel better about the poor job he had done of wrapping hers. She had chosen to put it in red paper, which was so typical. It came accompanied by a card, with a picture of a snowman on the front, which he set aside to read after he had opened it. Unlike his note, there were no instructions to read it first, so he decided it could wait. He tore the paper off and ripped into the box, doubtful but also eager to see what she had gotten him. His hand reached in to grab the plastic container, but he froze when he saw what it held.<p>

It was a Wüsthof Classic 8-inch Chef's Knife, the same type of knife her father used. The same knife her father had lovingly showed him, explaining its versatility and expert craftsmanship, and how for the serious at-home chef, it was one of the best knives to get.

He was flabbergasted. Here he had been thinking Hermione loathed that he was already better at cooking than her, but she had gotten him a gift that showcased that fact. He looked up at her expectantly, but she was still absorbed in the letter he had written her, so he quickly grabbed her card to see what explanation she gave.

_Dear Draco,_

_I knew immediately after your first night helping my father in the kitchen that a chef's knife would be the perfect present for you. It was obvious how instantly you were drawn in by cooking, and my father was able to see your potential talent easily enough. This is actually a gift from my parents too, as they chipped in to help me with the expense. They insisted I tell you it only came from me, since it was my idea, but really, you can thank them as well._

_I know that you'll eventually be able to incorporate magic into cooking, and that if you become good enough at those sorts of spells, you might not need this knife at all. But, I really hope you don't, because you look very happy while you're doing it, even if it is the muggle way._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Hermione_

He looked up at her again, and this time she was looking back at him, obviously done with his letter. She was looking at him strangely, and it took him a moment to realize that the way her eyes were glistening meant that there were _tears in them_. His heart stuttered. Had she really hated his present that much? He'd been nervous to give it to her, but really he was rather proud of it-

Suddenly she flung herself across the couch at him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He was startled, but also relieved. This meant she liked it, right? He tentatively put his arms around her and squeezed gently.

"Draco-" she began raggedly, her breathing hindered by the fact that she was now full-fledged crying, and hiccupping while doing so, "this is-(hiccup)-the _sweetest_-(hiccup)-most _thoughtful_-(hiccup)-present-(hiccup)-I've ever-(hiccup)-gotten."

He felt extremely pleased with himself.

* * *

><p>Hermione was very embarrassed by the display she was putting on, but really, she couldn't help it. Perhaps if she had been prepared for such a touching gift from Draco she could have pulled herself together enough to prevent it, but she had been completely blindsided. She knew he had changed, quite significantly, from the self-important, judgmental prick she had once known, but it wasn't until now, in this moment, that she realized the full extent of his evolution. It had overwhelmed her. Harry and Ron, while always giving her wonderful gifts, had never gotten her something this thoughtful! A book from his childhood, his actual, personal copy, the book that had made him fall in love with reading.<p>

Hugging him had been instinctual, she hadn't given herself any time to think about whether or not she should do it. She was glad, too, because he had returned her embrace quite enthusiastically. She stayed with her head buried in the crook of his neck until she calmed down. If she was honest with herself, she kind of wanted to stay there and enjoy the way it felt to have his arms wrapped around her, but she forced herself to pull away. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater, and smiled up at him sheepishly.

"Sorry," she said thickly, her throat clogged with phlegm, "I didn't mean to-"

He shook his head, silencing her. "Probably the best reaction I'll ever receive to a gift."

She laughed, then looked down at his package. He hadn't pulled the knife out of the box yet.

"Did you like mine?"

He looked down at the box, then back up. He regarded her for a few moments, and she waited for his verdict, full of apprehension.

"I love it," he said finally, definitively. She broke out into a huge smile and hugged him again, although more quickly this time.

"I'm glad. Give me a second and I'll make us some hot chocolate, but I kind of want to go clean up a bit first."

He nodded. "Yeah, you look a frightful mess." She chuckled, because she knew it must be true, although it wasn't encouraging to hear such an assessment of her looks coming from him. But then he smiled at her, his _real_ smile, and she turned away quickly so he wouldn't see her blush.

* * *

><p>"Before we go to bed, there's something we need to discuss."<p>

Hermione was sitting across from him, her legs curled up underneath her. She fiddled with a loose end on the knitted blanket thrown across the back of the couch. He immediately became apprehensive. Was she going to back out of going to St. Mungo's with him?

"When I originally made plans for the holiday, I did so with the intention that the plans would be for me, and me alone."

He said nothing. Which was fair, because really, she was just stating the obvious.

"And my original plans included spending a few days at the Burrow with the Weasleys."

His body went rigid.

"I've written to the boys, and Ginny knows you came with me already, obviously, but I also wrote to Mrs. Weasley explaining that you had come home with me for the break, so I wouldn't be able to visit with them."

He allowed himself to relax. He wasn't sure what Hermione's plan would have been, to leave him here alone with her parents (which wouldn't have been all that bad, truth be told, especially considering that they were going back to work after Boxing Day so he'd have the days to himself) or to _try and take him with her, _but finishing out the break as they had been seemed like the best idea.

"But she sent me an owl this morning saying we should both come."

"_What?_"

"It would just be for New Year's Eve! Things get fairly crowded there, and it wouldn't be practical for us to stay more than one night, but they're having a small party and she really wants us to be there for it. Luna's coming, with Zabini as well, so, there's that."

Draco mulled this over. It would be uncomfortable for him, considering all the nasty things he'd said about their family over the years, but Potter and Weasley had been cordial enough when they'd met at the Three Broomsticks (although to be fair, they'd hardly acknowledged each other for the rest of the afternoon), and it would probably be perceived as an insult if he didn't accept the invitation now that one had been extended to him.

"Bill Weasley will be there, too. He's a curse-breaker for Gringotts."

"Are you trying to bribe me to say yes, Hermione?"

She cocked her head to the side. The look on her face was one part shame, one part fear, and one part mischief. Which was a disconcerting combination.

"I'm really hoping it's works. I've already told her we'll both be there."


End file.
